Tokyo Music
by Killjoy Queen
Summary: GazettE fanfic, plus others which I'm including later, i.e. Alice Nine, etc. Lots of O/Cs in there, but I'm planning on this being pretty long. It's tough to summarise, so see what you think for yourself! Rated M for a reason.
1. Prologue

_I __hate.... _

_I... _

_There's a familiar squeak of wheels in a Tokyo hospital one night. A sound that every employee knows and knows well. They never get used to it, however- regardless of the number of times they hear it- and it always fills them with dread. It's the sound a wheeled stretcher makes when it's being pushed by people in a panic. Professional people- as in doctors or nurses. That's what makes it so unnerving._

_The receptionist looks up from her paperwork at the diversion, sighs unhappily and tries as best as she can to get back to it. It's hard for her to, but it's the only job she's got and she wants to keep it. Of course, nobody notices this at all. They never do. _

_The hospital is packed, but the ambulance staff manage to find room for this one. People move like water out of their way when they see the body of the patient, strapped down and breathing into a mask. The patient makes the occasional grunt as they are moved, but other than that, the only noises that come from them are harsh, shallow breaths; like chokes. Chokes of oxygen. The staff admire them for it. They don't know quite frankly how the patient, in the condition that they are in, is able to breathe at all._

_The staff reach the Emergency Ward and get to work on the patient; fighting to bring them back to life. It's a struggle, though; it really is. Staff run in and run out constantly. Doctors, nurses, specialists; the list is countless. They're scared for a while that the patient is going to slip. _

_B-beep... _

_B-beep..._

_It takes some time, but eventually, they do. They don't know how, but they do. They all sigh and cheer quietly, as not to disturb the other patients. They're proud of themselves, even though they shouldn't really be. After all, they were only doing their jobs- and they're not out of the water yet, at all. They have a very, very long way to go and they know it. But because the patient is stable for the moment, they sigh and get back to work; one nurse staying behind to keep an eye on the patient so that she can holler for a doctor if needs be. _

_So, she stays there until her shift is over; even though it probably isn't going to be necessary. The patient remains steady with a regular heartbeat- the earlier complications over, for now. She knows she's supposed to be compassionate, but eventually ( because she's human), she gets bored. _

_After reading her copy of 'The Tokyo Gazette' for the third time, she puts it down and goes over to look at the patient. Not because something is going wrong, or anything like that; just because she's curious. Looking at them, however, upsets her- because it reminds her with an unwelcome jolt how fragile life is. How frighteningly fragile, indeed._

_She's a large woman with what people describe as a good natured, plump face. She hates the fact that she's chubby; especially because she can't afford a new uniform and she's shrunken her own in the wash recently. Her shirt is stretched so tightly over her chest that she can read her own nametag perfectly, for Christ's sake: Izumi Etou, R.N.. _

_She yawns and looks at the clock on the other side of the room; groaning with annoyance. She doesn't like doing night-shifts, but because she is regarded as a good nurse; she's been asked to stay behind on call for the last couple of weeks. She feels immediately guilty though for getting annoyed and looks back at the patient. _

_**You selfish woman. It's not their fault that they're eating into your time. **_

_However, regardless of the number of times she gets up and walks around, Izumi still can't seem to stop her eyes from drooping. She yawns again, louder this time; a steady drone which rings around the otherwise silent room. Although nobody except the patient is in there with her, she still feels embarassed. _

_Izumi goes out to get a coffee to keep herself awake. She figures that it can't do any harm- after all, the machine is only down the hall._

_When she returns, she nearly ploughs into a young boy of about five. Izumi drops her coffee with the shock. The kid is a boy she recognises, being a son of one of the other patients in the ward. She has initially a mind to tell him off and send him back to where he belongs, until she realises what she's looking at._

_The boy is staring at the patient and the patient is staring back at him. Their eyes are understandably bloodshot and it chills Izumi to see the scene. The kid's almost transfixed, as if he wants to move but can't, so Izumi taps him on the shoulder. _

_The boy jumps; af if bitten and turns round to face her. She had hoped her face would be assuring to him; but the kid's expression does not change to relief, as it usually did with most children who she cared for. Instead, she sees something that every motherly figure hates. _

_The kid's face, for lack of a better word, __**crumbles**__. And, not a moment later, he starts to cry._


	2. 1: New Kid in Town

Staggering along the pavement was a nightmare beyond words. The heat of the summer storm, the pounding rain which lashed on my every whim- these were the things that tortured me. The stickiness was unbearable, and my fingers; blistered from my bags which I had so unwillingly heaved four miles from the station, were slowly giving way. I tried to restrain my financial decisions as carefully as I could; which sadly meant sacrificing myself rather than paying ridiculous sums of money on the luxury of Japanese taxi fare.

My only relief from the merciless day was, in that moment, discovering that I had somehow- _finally_- reached the right road. I bundled my bags to my elbows- where they cried in pain- and fumbled in my pocket for the advertisement. The ink from it ran down my fingers and it wilted in my hands, but I was reassured nonetheless.

I forced myself to walk by counting down the distance from the door numbers that I passed. It was not a long road, nor was it charming or luxurious. But, in this suburbia, it almost felt like England again.

I didn't think I would, but I was really missing my family. Pathetic really, considering that this was only my third day in Japan. The previous three days had been spent in and out of travel inns while I battled with forms and sorted out my finances.

My lungs, which felt filled with a cruel acid, released when I came to the door of the kindly, traditional residence, which, in Japanese, had a "To Let" sign that could only mean beauty to my tired eyes. Mustering the strength I had left, I put down my bags and rang the bell.

Even though the rain pounded in my ears, the muffled sound of footsteps was unmistakable. And in no time at all, the landlady answered the door.

Her kind face, aged; yet with eyes full of youth disbanded my foul mood in full. I recognized her immediately.

Without me even suggesting as such the tiniest amount, she nudged me to one side and took all my bags in, despite how frail she first seemed.

I started to thank her, but she shook her head and smiled.

"No need to thank me, child. Now get inside before some disease kills you off, you silly girl."

As I began to step inside, she stopped me, raised an eyebrow and pointed at my feet. "Shoes. Off. Now."

I scowled at her jokingly, and she laughed at me. "Screwing your face like that will only age you like me, you know."

"Age! You?" I stared at her. "You've not aged a day since I was born, Aunt Yuki!"

Yuki raised an eyebrow at me. "Trying to get in my good books, eh, Miroko?" She smiled. "It wouldn't be the first time, you deprived child. Now take off that damned coat and get some tea."

I silently obeyed, now and then answering my aunt's questions about my life in general as I changed into a warm, dry, knit sweater and a pair of loose jersey trousers. Peeling away the disgusting stickiness was absolute bliss.

My Aunt's shadow appeared behind the screen door, the absolute image of a traditional Japanese woman. As she slid the door aside, I could also see that her traditions went as far as the tea she had made. It was green and translucent, when I had stupidly expected Tetley.

I tried very hard to look appeased, but it wasn't hard enough. My Aunt saw my face and burst out laughing, so hard that she almost spilt tea over the antique silk kimono that she was wearing.

I felt like a right twat as she handed me the cup, but grateful at the same time that she was a woman who loved humor in almost every form and always looked on the lighter side.I raised it to my lips, unaware that I was trembling slightly at the thought of letting the liquid near my tongue, and closed my eyes.

"Come on Miro," said Yuki, trying very hard not to laugh, "it's not that difficult."

The tea flooded in as a warm, peppermint gush, which took me by surprise, so much so that I managed to embarrass myself further by dribbling, which pushed my aunt off the edge. And, for ten whole minutes, we laughed at ourselves.

* * *

"This is your room." Aunt Yuki said, opening a door on the upstairs landing.

With a grunt, I shuffled my bags inside and stepped into the warm, yellow light of my own, private world.

Despite the styles of today, Yuki had kept this room as a reflection of herself in every way- tidy, traditional; but nonetheless stunning. The cream walls were adorned in her beautiful paintings of animals and Japanese women, along with hanging scrolls of calligraphy done so carefully by hand. As with most traditional Japanese rooms, tatami mats covered the floor.

I reveled in this welcoming creation, and flopped down quite comfortably on the futon that aunt Yuki had laid out for me to sleep. "I think I'm quite in love here."

Yuki smiled, but crossed her arms at the same time. "That may be, but I also have some things for you to listen to Miroko, if you wouldn't mind."

I nodded. "Sure, go ahead."

Aunt Yuki took a deep breath, and began, counting off one by one on her fingers. "First, you're not going to be the only one living in this house, as I rent it out, so that means keeping it clean in here. I don't doubt that you're both mature and thoughtful," she paused, thinking, "but being carried away and forgetting constantly will do me no good and eventually, you no good either. I also expect a text if you're going to be late home, so I know who NOT to cook for tonight. Trust me, I must tell Taeko off at least twice a week for that. Thirdly," Yuki sighed, looking over her shoulder, "I apologize greatly if the noise across the road gets too loud."

I suddenly realized how loud it actually was, and followed my gaze to the window where Yuki was looking.

I could not make out any faces, but I could see two obvious silhouettes in the dim light in the window across the road. The crashes and bangs were enough to drive anyone wild, not to mention the screech of a guitar player with talent, but with quite wild distortion. After a couple of minutes, it died down and came to a silence, which allowed Yuki to continue.

"They're really nice boys," she explained, drawing over the curtains, "but they sometimes forget."


	3. 2: My Guitar

Yuki left me in the shadows of the room, alone. I think she sensed how tired I was. In the corner of the room, there was a sink with an overhanging mirror. I approached it, drawn with its familiarity; my fingers smoothing the elegant cedarwood frame which was so like the one in my bathroom back home. I closed my eyes, almost hypnotised with the smell of the wood; an oily smell of the earth and of life. This mirror was new, but when I opened my eyes and saw my reflection surrounded by all of that same elegance, I did not like what I saw. My skin has always been unbearably pale. I do not tan, nor do I burn- it always stays the same shade in a most irritating way. But today, my complexion was different; almost grey and my eyes, ringed with darkness, were protruding extraordinarily. I looked much, much older than I was, which almost frightened me.

A shooting pain in my head rudely cut across my thoughts. I groaned, raising my hand to my temple, massaging it gingerly. I poured out a glass of water from the tap using the clean tumbler next to it, popped a couple of ibuprofen and lay down to think.

I felt as if I were floating in a blank, unfamiliar world. I traced the cracks of the ceiling with my eyes almost mindlessly, half awake when I should have been excited and alive. I missed my family terribly now I was here and, although knowing that Yuki was a kind-hearted soul who I already felt I could rely on, I knew nobody from the university which I came here to attend, or my housemates. The sharp, stabbing pains in my head however, on the brighter side, were beginning to cease. I sat up and looked at the clock. To my amazement and irritation, I had been daydreaming for over an hour. I breathed deeply, trying to get it together and picked up Lucy.

Not to be egotistic, but my guitar is the most valuable thing I own and she's gorgeous. She's a Jackson Randy Rhodes in a faded cherry paint, ultra shiny and virtually sings when you play her. I was lucky enough to get her from my parents as a reward for passing my A levels, so I've not had her long. I appreciated getting her an awful lot, which is why I guess I was a bit on the incredibly weird side by naming her and giving her a gender. I've played guitar most of my life, so I guess you could say I'm a musical type of person to the slightly extreme side. I strummed a couple of chords, the silky strings slipping through my fingers. Unfortunately, carrying my bags had blistered my hands to hell, so I couldn't play for long. Halfway through the Moody Blues' 'Nights in White Satin', the blister on my little finger caught on the B string. I swore loudly, unable to help it and clapped my hand to my mouth. I hoped Yuki hadn't heard me.

Then, I heard a giggle behind me.

"Don't stop playing," the voice said. It was a girl's voice, willowy and light, "you're really good, you know."

I turned round to see who it was. A girl around my age was standing in the doorway. She was Japanese, but her hair was burgundy with slices of bright red and pink running through it, which I really liked. Her style was kooky- she wore bright pink trainers, silver legwarmers, a stripy pink sweater and purple overalls which ended at the knee. It was indeed quite noticeable that her situation had been similar to my own- her burgundy hair was soaked through and her clothes looked freshly laundered.

I think me staring at her must have made her feel bad, because she immediately looked taken aback, as if she shouldn't have come in.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, looking upset, "I'm really sorry, it's just the door was open and, since I play bass, I just couldn't STOP myself-"

"No no, it's okay!" I replied, laughing, "I forgot I left the door open actually, it's fine. I'm sorry if I seemed rude. Come in if you like."

The girl laughed, seemingly relieved. She sat down next to me on my futon, sticking out her hand in a goofy way which made me laugh. I took the greeting cheerily.

"Just to warn you, we usually bow here rather than shake hands," she said, smiling, "we're a weird little country that way. I'm Taeko Hanabishi. You're Yuki-san's niece, right?"

"Miroko Kawasaki." I replied, smiling back. "Not- so-fresh from the UK."

We talked for ages about everything and anything, so much so that I almost felt my homesickness and fear physically dissipate. It turned out her parents had kicked her out of her house early to 'encourage' her to 'find her own feet', so she'd been living at the boarding house since the beginning of the summer. She liked it here an awful lot; due to the reasonable prices of living and the 'exquisite' board (to quote). She was attending the same university as well, although not the same course; I was reading Physics (to which she laughed and called me a nerd) and she was reading Business Studies and English. She'd been playing bass since she was twelve and brought it over to my room for me to see. It was an Epiphone SG in black and was covered in stickers. It was cute, equally kooky as Taeko herself and went by the name of Ichigo-chan. We then jammed for a couple of hours, until it got dark outside and Yuki called us for dinner. Taeko stopped playing immediately at the call and grinned dreamily. I followed suit and realised the crashes and bangs over the road had started again; it appeared that our jam session had been an encouragement.

"She always makes stuff that smells good and tastes even better." Taeko murmured happily. She picked up her bass and got up, turning round at the door to face me. "You coming down for the eats?"

She noticed I'd paused from moving and was listening to the noise outside, at which she rolled her eyes.

"They're always doing that," she explained, looking out the window, "but despite the noise, they're all really nice. I bump into them time to time when I'm out and we talk when we see each other."

"Who are they?" I asked her, looking at the silhouettes through the window.

"They all live together and are starting at U Tokyo as well-" Taeko started to reply. She then jolted, looking like she'd just remembered something.

"You okay?"

"Just had a thought actually," She replied, grinning, "They're having a party tonight which they invited me to. Want to go?"

I felt thrilled at the idea, but didn't want to show it too much, or make her think I was needy, because she seemed amazingly nice. So I shrugged and acted casual.

"Sure, why not?" I replied, smiling, "Sounds like a plan."

"Hey!!! I called you both ten minutes ago!!!" Yuki cried, exasperated, "Taeko, you're never this late for dinner!!"


	4. 3: Dammit

At the time I and Taeko were consuming Yuki-san's delicious spread of traditional Japanese cuisine, Ruki Matsumoto was alone in his room. He spent a lot of time alone; partially because he preferred his own company rather than a mass of individuals talking around him, which- considering the fact that he lived with four of his friends- was fairly contradictory (thank-you-oh-so-very-much-'generous'-student-funding) and also due to the fact that he liked dwelling in his own thoughts. Things, he always reasoned, seemed much clearer if you only stopped to think about them once in a while. He knew not many people were like that though; Kai, for example, was the most airheaded guy imaginable. Great as the guy was to be around at parties, he was so cutsey and hyperactive that girls seemed to be drawn to him like incredibly attractive nails to a shrimpy, boyish little magnet. It drove Ruki _mad_- admittedly, partially out of jealousy, but mostly because he himself was a shyer person who preferred being himself rather than someone else. He reasoned that if he were to be in a relationship with someone, that it would be impossible for him to hold up a _Mona Lisa_ persona on a constant basis all the time, so why start on a lie? It made no sense to him. The same rule applied to one-night stands as well- he preferred to respect the other person rather than to suck up to them. All in all, it was probably the reason he couldn't remember the last time he had sex.

His phone buzzed and lit up. He groaned, rolling over to see who had texted him. It was Kai, asking him if he wanted booze for the night, if so how much and a simple sentence explaining that he'd only get him booze if he had the cash in hand (_"i'm broke man, so no loans- text me if that's ok. l8rs"_). Kai and Aoi had gone out shopping for booze and snacks earlier and hadn't yet come back- Kai had probably forgotten the time chatting up some girl and Aoi, as usual, was probably simply putting up with it. They were the opposites of each other in almost every way, but for some reason, they had been best friends since kindergarten.

_Speak of the Devil, _Ruki thought. He wasn't really a heavy drinker. Or at least, not anymore. He brushed his red hair out of his face and closed his eyes. How much did he want tonight? Did he feel like getting thoroughly wasted? Or just enough to justify annoying Kai when he was trying to hit on everyone with a skirt in the room? Ruki snickered at the idea. He thumbed out simply two words back: _the_ _usual_. Kai would know what he meant- a six pack of Asahi Beer, a bottle of Jӓgermeister and a small bottle of Bell's to finish. Usually, he never finished all three- but they went down smooth and they got him drunk enough, even though he usually left most of the Bell's. The party was due to start in two hours. Ruki hoped they'd be back before then- he wasn't in the mood for waiting around tonight.

A huge crash and a subsequent loud curse from downstairs made him jump. Ruki got up grumpily, his quiet disturbed and lumbered to the top of the stairs.

"Hey!!!" He yelled down at Reita and Uruha, who were 'practicing', "What's going on down there? Does someone need medical assistance of any kind?"

A pause and Rei called back, with almost a hint of guilt in his voice. "Nothing... Uruha dropped his guitar on my foot, because he's a CLUMSY bastard, aren't you Ru?" He sounded like a kid who'd gotten caught with his hand in a cookie jar; which Ruki found so funny, he tried not to laugh.

"I'm not clumsy." Ru retorted smoothly. "You cocked up that last chord, so I decided to give you a little 'motivation', that's all. Talk about ungrateful."

"How can I be GRATEFUL," Rei spluttered, "when your 'motivation' involves several potential broken fucking _toes_???"

"Considering your development so far in life," Ru replied casually, "I'm fairly surprised your mother didn't endorse such a method."

"Oh, you're so... so..." Rei stammered furiously, "so... so... you're a dick, Ru."

Ruki couldn't hold it in any longer- he burst out laughing. He continued down the stairs with tears in his eyes and peered round the corner into the living room. Both of them paused immediately when he entered, which was just as well. The scene was almost comic- Rei had Ru by the collar and was red in the face, whereas Ru looked completely calm as he always did, even though it appeared as if he were on the end of a punch.

"Man," Ruki said, grinning hopelessly, "that's a position I've not seen you two in before. Kodak moments, eat your hearts out." Before either of them could reply that it wasn't very nice to make jokes about them being gay (put politely), even though neither of them were (much to Ruki's constant disappointment for the obvious comic reasons), Ruki whipped out his phone with alarming speed, snapped a photo and ran upstairs.

It took Uruha and Reita three seconds to realise what had happened. When it registered, they exchanged glances, jumped apart and ran after Ruki. But by then, it was too late; Ruki had locked himself in his room; which meant, due to the sturdy bolt lock, nobody could get in except through the outside window. Rei ran up to the door and banged on it three times with his fist.

"Ruk!!!" Rei yelled, "Open the door!!"

"Why?" Ruki laughed, "A little Facebook never hurt anybody." He wasn't actually going to put the photo on Facebook, but to torment them both; he got out his laptop and pretended to type.

"Aw come on Ruk!" Ru replied, exasperated, "We're having a party tonight!!"

It was weird hearing Ru so defeated; he was usually the one who had a level head. Ru had been his best friend since middle school and ever since Ruki had known him, he'd been the same way. It was a feature that made him incredibly understanding and serene. He had it all really- he was insanely smart, a talented guitarist, an all round nice guy and, Ruki had to admit, incredible good looks. Ruki himself was straight, but if all the women in the world disappeared overnight and if the men of the world had to choose someone to repopulate the human race with due to some profound new medical discovery? Uruha, hands down. And, if it came to it (pardon the disgraceful pun) probably Rei as a second choice. Ruki had met Rei when he was sixteen from a long chain of events which he didn't like to remember and because of it, despite current appearances due to the death threats coming from the other side of the door; he was closer to Rei than anybody else he knew.

After about fifteen minutes of negotiating, threatening and swearing, Ruki assured them both that he hadn't put the picture on Facebook and, as they were both so relieved, they agreed to let him keep the picture after seeing it themselves. They both usually didn't take such a thing seriously, but the party tonight had made them somewhat nervous and, to their standards, believe it or not, it had been a serious argument. Ten minutes later, after they'd finished laughing about the picture and the overall ordeal, they were sitting round Ruki's rather untidy room chatting.

"Hey Ruk," Rei said, suddenly, "did you hear that person who was playing guitar before, over the road? I thought it was Taeko, you know, the pretty redhead from Yuki-san's, but I remember that she said she played bass rather than guitar."

Indeed, Ruki had heard someone earlier. He'd heard the notes, smooth but a little laboured at difficult chords (he'd tried learning guitar as a kid), as if the guitarist's true talent was hidden a little behind a pair of sore hands. For some reason, he hadn't really thought at the time about who it was; merely listened and absorbed the music with a tuned but appreciative ear. He wondered now about the identity of the person; or if anyone knew who it was.

"Yeah, I did", Ruki replied, "they were pretty good. Do you know them, or something?"

"I don't think so," Rei replied, "but I heard Taeko playing bass with them. Maybe Yuki-san has a new tenant- I saw her out before cleaning the porch before it started to rain."

A door opened on the other side of the house, followed by a multitude of wet scrapings and the thunk of bottles onto the wooden hall floor.

"Speaking of rain," Ru interrupted them, "I think Aoi and Kai might just be back."

Knowing this meant booze, the three of them jumped up and rushed down the stairs, as if it were going to disappear. As Ruki had expected; both of them were soaked through from the rain, Kai's lips and neck were bright pink (for obvious reasons) and he had a cell number written up his arm in purple magic marker. Aoi looked pale and drawn, as if he were stressed, which was again, no surprise to Ruki either. Out of all of them, Aoi was the shyest; but also probably the single nicest and most kindhearted person Ruki had ever met, despite the fact that sometimes his dress sense resembled Tim Burton's and that he had more holes in him from piercings than a roule of swiss cheese.

Ruki heard Rei _tsk _behind him at Kai's neck disapprovingly. Kai immediately jostled up his collar and attempted to look a combination of both innocent and defensive at the same time.

"What?" He asked Reita, with a look of it-wasn't-me-so-fuck-off. Rei sighed, approached Kai and pulled down his collar. He then turned to Aoi, with a look of exasperation, to which Aoi shrugged.

"Why do you ever go anywhere with him, Aoi?" Ru chimed in disapprovingly, shaking his head. He walked up to Aoi and put his hand on his shoulder. "It's alright though man. WE'D never leave you alone in the rain just to satisfy our 'sweet teeth'-"

"-Actually," Rei interrupted, grinning, "we probably would; but that's not the point. The point is we love you and wouldn't do it all the time."

"You guys are jerks." Aoi retorted, laughing. He then picked up one of the bags of booze and handed it to Ruki. "This one's yours and Rei's. I'm going upstairs for a shower. Loverboy, you can sort out the rest."

"Aoi!!!" Kai yelled at him, but Aoi had already vanished, somewhat like a slippery little gothic roadrunner. Ruki laughed, took his booze out of the bag and ran up back to his room to get ready.


	5. 4: Tonight

"Pass the onigiri please, Miro." Taeko asked, cheerfully. For such a petite girl as she was, I couldn't believe how much she could eat. She'd gone through four onigiri, three bowls of miso soup, a full plate of tonkatsu with fried vegetables and an uncountable number of pickles and gyoza. I passed them over to her almost dumbly. She smiled appreciatively in response, took two and passed the plate back to me. Admittedly, Yuki's food was delicious, but I couldn't help but feel, as she was my aunt, that I somewhat had to out-eat Taeko to seem grateful. But after a bowl of miso soup, a full portion of chicken teriyaki, a couple of onigiri and several gyoza (which, incidentally, had taken ages to eat because I wasn't used to chopsticks), I felt bloated almost to the point of feeling sick. I decided that I could live with the guilt.

"How can you be so thin and eat all that?" I exclaimed. I couldn't help it- I was devastatingly jealous. If I eat one brussels sprout too many at Christmas, I usually end up with a stomach and arse that take until next Christmas to disappear; no matter how many hours I torture myself with sit-ups and exercise bikes.

Taeko put down her half-eaten onigiri and grinned, patting her perfectly flat stomach. "No idea. Good genes, I guess- I never exercise."

_Lucky cow_, I thought to myself enviously. I think Yuki could tell what I was thinking, because she chuckled heartily at the comment while getting up to collect the dishes we'd used. Taeko had finished her onigiri and was lying back on her chair, as if savouring the flavour.

"Thank you for that, Yuki-san," She groaned, "but as amazing as that was, even I need to leave room for dessert."

"It was delicious," I chimed in, "you're an excellent cook, Aunt Yuki."

I cringed at the thought of eating dessert, though. It would most likely be utterly exquisite, but I feared not fitting into my trousers for the next several weeks and, since I was meeting new people tonight, I really wanted to make a good impression for a change. I happen to be incredibly clumsy. People tell me that I don't look it, because I'm small and thin (well, _mostly_ thin); but a few broken plates later, they pass me off as a ball of chaos. It is a hideously annoying curse that I've had to live with all of my life and, incidentally, the reason why my dream of being a ballerina was crushed- by my mother laughing at me when I told her to the point where she couldn't breathe.

"Glad you girls enjoyed it." Yuki replied happily. She finished cleaning the table and went over to the fridge, where she retrieved the single biggest trifle that I had ever seen. I really wish I could have felt grateful, but my heart sank like a rock.

"I decided to make this to make you feel closer to home," Yuki explained, smiling, "so tuck in!" I seriously felt full to bursting, but so looked so enthusiastic; I mustered up a weak smile.

"Yum..." Me and Taeko said, synonymously. I was extremely grateful that she was louder and more enthusiastic than I was.

* * *

"Hurry up Miro!!!" Taeko called impatiently, "What are you _doing_ up there?"

In actual fact, I was trying to come up with a style for my hair and was failing miserably, which was annoying, because my hair is by far my best feature. It's long, jet black and shiny- so long that I can nearly sit on it. I've wanted to get it restyled for ages, but I haven't had the heart to cut it; probably because I had spent most of my childhood begging my mum to let me grow my hair, as she always had it cut short. I wrestled with it, trying to get it to stay in a bun, but after a short, frustrating while, I gave up and shoved a couple of oversized green and sliver clips into it. I love the colour green and am somewhat hippyish, hence my choice of outfit for the evening- brown fringed cork wedges and a flowing green minidress, complete with natural wood, jade and silver jewellery. A typical Miroko outfit, with matching glittery green eyeshadow. I took a look at myself in the mirror and hoped to God nobody thought I resembled Tinkerbell.

By that point, Taeko had begun to yell again, so I spritzed myself quickly with some perfume, grabbed my bag (tan brown with embroidered green leaves) and hurried downstairs.

Taeko took one look and me and raised an eyebrow, smiling. "Into Disney fairies, are we?"

"Oh God, I knew it!" I cried, exasperated, "Is it that noticeable? Is it bad?"

"No no!!!" Taeko assured me, laughing, "You look great!!! Honestly!! I just saw that movie recently, is all."

Somehow, this didn't reassure me; but as I couldn't be bothered changing again, I took it on the chin.

* * *

Ruki took a swig from his second can of Asahi and absorbed the sounds around him. People were everywhere- faces he knew, faces he didn't know, faces he couldn't stand. Aoi was in the corner, already drunk and, for a change, completely outgoing. Ruki turned his head to face him. He was with a few guys, some who he recognised from high school and they were playing poker. The dealer dealt a new round of cards, the round passed and the bets were taken- Aoi had called.

"Alright, show." The dealer announced.

"Two pair- twos and fours." One guy replied, throwing down his cards.

"Full house." Another guy announced, throwing down his cards. The rest of the group had folded, so they all turned to Aoi. Aoi pushed up his shades and lowered his hand with a somewhat crooked smile.

"Four queens." He said, coolly. "Pay up boys."

_Atta boy, Aoi_, Ruki thought, turned back to face the rest of the room and took another swig of his beer. A hand clapped on his shoulder, making him jump.

"Hey Ruk." It was Kai. "You okay man?"

Ruki finished his beer and then picked up the Jӓegermeister at his feet. He took a large swig, swilled the nectar in his mouth and finally let it trickle down his throat. _You beautiful, terrible silky acid_. He groaned at the bliss and turned to face Kai.

"I'm great, man." He replied with a charismatic thumbs-up, "What do you need?" Kai's belt was undone and his face was covered with lipstick, so the answer was obvious. Ruki snickered, swigging his whiskey. Kai started to reply, but Ruki held up a hand to hush him.

"Forget it, I know what you're gonna say. Middle drawer of the desk of my room, as it's not like I need them. Do anything in my room, I WILL find out, which will follow with me having to kill you." Ruki told him. His head was swimming- he felt as if the alcohol was starting to hit him already. "Who's your choice screw for _this_ evening then?"

Kai grinned and gestured towards a cute brunette with a slight nudge of his head.

"I got her number earlier, so I invited her." He said, shrugging. "Honestly Ruk, I just don't plan these things- they just chase me. I can't run that fast."

Ruki rolled his eyes to the comment and, with that, Kai left with the brunette hanging on his arm. He sighed to himself. He was a patient person, but it was a little depressing for him that most of his friends-bar Aoi, because of his shyness- seemed to attract women so well. Ru didn't really run after women like Kai did- he didn't need to. He was acting as the doorman for the event for some ridiculous reason, which meant a difficult and dangerous passage of entry through all the women chatting eagerly to him or simply gazing at his Adonis demeanour. The sad thing was that he barely seemed to notice. Once Ru had a task before him, he was focussed on it, which meant that a six-breasted woman riding a unicorn could go past him unnoticed. Rei's sense of humour and looks seemed to fare well with girls as well, but for some reason, Rei wasn't talking to anyone. He seemed to be drifting, as if in some private world amongst the masses. Ruki necked the bottle of Jӓgermeister again and went over to talk to him. Hell, it sure was nice knowing that he wasn't the only person who felt a bit on the shy side.


	6. 5: Issues

The earlier rain had ceased to fall and an earthy, suburban smell filled the air. Staggering across the road with Taeko, I stood in a puddle with a splash and swore so loudly that a woman in an upstairs room from three doors down stuck her head out and yelled at me about 'impressionable behaviour'. I tried my best to look apologetic while Taeko laughed at me. She had already reached the door. Lights were flashing, loud music was playing and people filled every window. I started feeling exceptionally nervous. I had bought a peace offering of WKD with me to appease the hosts at the off-licence at the top of the road as well as some stuff for myself, so I hoped that they would accept my alcoholic little 'olive branch'. If they were anything like the lads I knew back at home, it'd be taken out of my hands faster than you could say 'recovery position'. But of course, doing so had made me and Taeko rather late; so she was relatively impatient to get drinking. Me being clumsy, attracting trouble and consequently making her laugh seemed to make up for it however.

"Taeko..." I started, grinning weakly, "these guys _are_ nice, right?"

"Well yeah!" Taeko exclaimed confidently, "Well... most of them. I only really know Ruki, Uruha and Reita well. I've met Kai a couple of times, but, if he's around tonight, I'd approach him warily if I were you. He's an alright guy, but an absolute manwhore. Some guy called Aoi lives there as well, but I've not seen him around. Rei told me he was shy."

"Oh."

Taeko banged on the door with the back of her bag. I don't know what she had in there- probably a small bottle of vodka- but the noise of it made me jump.

A couple of seconds resumed, followed by the door opening to one of the most gorgeous guys I had ever seen. He was so gorgeous he almost _shone_. He had dark blonde hair, high cheekbones, brown, almond shaped eyes and wore leather pants that left nothing yet _everything_ to the imagination all at once. I almost physically drooled. He grinned, leaning against the doorframe.

"Fuck off Taeko, who asked you?" The angel joked lightheartedly. Taeko gave him a false glare and pulled tongues at him.

"We brought booze!!" I chimed in, feeling stupider by the second.

He sighed sarcastically, smiled and beckoned us.

"If that's the case, I _suppose_ you can come in for a little while..."

Taeko rolled her eyes and tried to shove him, but he held her back with one hand.

"Have we met before?" He asked, looking at me; his angelic face slightly furrowed in confusion.

"This is Miro." Taeko replied, gesturing to me, "She just moved in over the road at Yuki-san's. She's her Niece. Miro, this is Uruha."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Uruha said to me enthusiastically, taking my bag from me like a proper gentleman. "Come on in! I'll introduce you to the others- or at least, the ones I can find. It's probably better the less you see of Kai, anyway."

_Is he that bad?_ I thought to ask, but then found myself enveloped in a shroud of people. I felt insanely flattered by the way Ru was treating me, but didn't really want to go there. He was _waaay_ out of my league. He leached out more sex appeal than a pile of Gackts (which, admittedly, was a _very_ impressive achievement) and, although that would be extremely great for me, it would attract distinctly unwanted competition as well.

Ru led me and Taeko to the kitchen, where we performed the normal party ritual of removing our shoes (bar Taeko- she was let off because her boots were extremely complicated) and coats and followed with the unpacking of the alcoholic olive branch. Ru took out a WKD from the pack, opened it with his teeth and glugged down half the bottle quite happily in a matter of seconds. He gasped for air and wiped his mouth.

"Honey," he groaned blissfully, turning to me, "feel free to come over anytime. You know a person's great when their taste in booze is good. Loving the Tinkerbell thing, by the way."

"Gee, thanks." I replied, a bit bashfully, rubbing the back of my head. Why couldn't just wearing green _be_ just wearing green? Still, it was great that he seemed to be a nice guy. Most good looking men I know are stupidly retarded, in the sense that they seem to believe that they're the dog's bollocks, you know, that they're _it_. Ru was indeed a refreshing change.

"She's not Tinkerbell!" Taeko laughed, cutting across my thoughts, "She's just a hippy- eh Miro?"

I felt insanely grateful to her for sticking up for me, not because I thought Ru wasn't just kidding around, but that she knew I was a bit paranoid about it. So I nodded in response.

A blonde guy walked past us then- who Taeko seemed to recognise, because her eyes widened.

"Hey Rei!!" She called out to the guy, who turned round; his face breaking out into a grin.

I almost groaned out loud. He was almost as good looking as Ru, but in a different way. His hair was brown and white blonde, which was held in a hairstyle that was intensely strange yet somewhat alluring. His shoulders were broad but not too large; as if he was toned and slender, which I much preferred to being ripped.

_How does Taeko know so many gorgeous men?_ I thought, jealous again. Then, I noticed something that Rei wore that I couldn't take my eyes off. I must have looked insane, standing there staring at it, but he didn't seem to care. After Taeko high fived him, she noticed me looking at it. I quickly stopped, hoping that I hadn't seemed overly rude.

"Seriously, Rei," she groaned, swivelling her glance to him and then down to his nose-band, "why do you wear that thing? It makes you look like an archaeology exhibit."

"It's... how I roll?" He shrugged, sheepishly, eying the WKDs.

"Help yourself," said Ru, grinning, knowing what he was thinking, "they're courtesy of the pretty lady in green."

Rei didn't hesitate- he took one, revealed a belt that had an incredibly useful bottle opener incorporated into the design, used it and took two large gulps; the blue liquid disappearing rapidly at the bob of his Adam's apple. I wasn't usually attracted by that kind of feature on a guy, but I felt a strange urge to trace it with my fingers and feel its cool, distinct form. He turned to me, his face distorted in a kind of ecstasy.

"I've never met you before and I already like you," He said, dreamily, "because you're getting me even drunk when, in actual fact, I've probably had more than enough. What's your name? I couldn't have missed you around- I'd have had to have been completely blind."

I wasn't quite sure how to take that, so I tried to see it as a compliment. If it was, it had been an exceptionally nice one, so I tried to look on the brighter side of things and smiled back at him, trying not to giggle at his dreamy expression.

"Miroko." I replied cheerily, "I'm Yuki-san's neice and recent tenant."

A shriek cut across the warm atmosphere between the four of us like a knife, from the garden outside the two glass patio doors. It chilled me deeply and horribly, so much so that I almost shivered. It wasn't like the odd shrieks around the house made out of good humour- it resembled a shriek of pain. Taeko had gone very pale.

We ran towards the patio doors to the darkened garden, which was deserted, except for one girl, who was sobbing. She had smashed her phone and the metal inside had broken to a sharp point, which in turn had sliced her hand. It was bleeding heavily- from the position of the cut, it looked as if the slice had severed a vein. She was on her knees, cradling her hand- her quite beautiful face in an expression of anguish that seemed almost inhuman. I went down to her, to try and help her up, which worked for a short while, but, as she was drunk, she stumbled and fell to her knees again. Reita took off his shirt and handed it to me. I nodded gratefully and wrapped it around her injured hand, squeezing it to stop the bleeding. Taeko knelt down next to the girl on the other side to me and put her arm around her.

"Well, don't just _stand_ there!!" She bawled at the two boys angrily, who sprung to attention, "Get a fucking first aid kit, some water and a goddamned _blanket_!!!"

Immediately and quite rightly, they both rushed off. The girl had stopped sobbing. Taeko held her while I applied pressure to her hand, the blood already showing through the material. All of a sudden, the girl laughed- a laugh of defeat and pain. She picked up a shard of her phone tossed it down the garden. It landed in the centre of the grassy lawn- a sliver of grey which reflected the cold moonlight and broke up the seemingly endless maw of blackness.

"There's no fucking point anymore." She muttered angrily, her voice arid and full of slur. She gagged suddenly and me and Taeko had to help her forward to the grid. She threw up violently, Taeko rubbing her back while I held back her hair. When she finished , she wiped the dregs from her mouth and sat back up between me and Taeko.

"Thanks." She croaked to us, smiling weakly with appreciation. The T-shirt had fallen off her hand, so I quickly replaced it before the bleeding got worse again.

"Feel like talking about it?" I asked her softly, warming her hands in mine. She was freezing.

After a short while, she hadn't replied, so Taeko continued for me.

"I'm Taeko and this is Miro," she explained gently, "I know you've never met us or anything, so it's probably best that we introduce ourselves before you think we're weird anonymous strangers."

The girl laughed to that, her normal laugh lovely like the tinkling of a bell; much unlike the ugly giggle before. Reita had also returned, carrying a throw-blanket and a tall glass of water. He put it round her and handed her the water.

"Here," he whispered to her, "drink this. It might make you feel better. Ru's just getting Ruk- he has a first aid kit in his room."

She looked so grateful our help that it was almost touching. I felt myself warming a lot to Rei; maybe he wasn't just looks, after all- because he seemed to genuinely care. I remember the comment that I had been confused about earlier and smiled. The girl took a couple of sips from the glass and sighed gently, rolling it between her hands.

"My name's Aisha Ai." She murmured to us. "I'm sorry about being such a bitch, acting like this and you having to waste your time out here."

"Hey hey, it's okay." I replied back, laughing softly and non-mockingly.

"I'm also sorry about not answering before," Aisha continued miserably, taking another gulp of water, "I didn't know really how to phrase how much my parents are jerks without lowering myself to their level. I've pretty much already gone there, to be frank."

"How come?" Taeko asked, worriedly, "I mean, you couldn't-"

"I shouldn't be fucking drinking." She murmured to them with self anger. "I really shouldn't be." She finished her glass of water, a few sobs escaping her throat.

"What happened?" Reita asked her softly. For a few seconds she was silent, except for a more quiet sobs which escaped her throat like violent, frustrated hiccups. When her lips began to move, I almost heard them do so; a horrible, dry scraping sound that made me shiver.

"I found out yesterday that I was pregnant," she whispered, "And when I told my parents, just then, they kicked me out of their house. I've nowhere to go."

She broke down in our arms, me and Taeko holding her up. We exchanged glances for a couple of moments to think of what to do and after a little while, Taeko nudged her head forward. I looked at her, not understanding until she did it again and mouthed something to me, to which I nodded.

"Shh..." Taeko whispered to her kindly, a promise of which she was unsure she would be able to keep, "You can stay with us at Yuki-san's for as long as you need. She'll be happy to have you for a while for nothing if we explain to her what's happened."

I swallowed, but knew that it was best to reassure her first before worrying about what my Aunt would say. Enough damage, after all, seemed to have been done that night. It was an impulsion I hoped I wouldn't regret. And after all, it was the humane thing to do.

"That's right." I continued gently, squeezing her hand.

"It's sad really," Ai said, laughing morosely to herself after she'd stopped crying, "because I'm such a mess, the guy whose it is didn't even recognise me before."

"Who is it?" Rei asked, his eyes full of anger. "I'll kick his damned _ass_."

She smiled sadly. The silence that followed seemed much longer than it actually was and was horribly uncomfortable. Finally, she spoke; her soft brown eyes swivelling to meet Rei's.

"Uruha's."


	7. 6: Ruder

**A/N: This chapter includes a pretty graphic (although short) sex scene, which I put in for the purposes of humour/ character/ story development, but I won't spoil it for you. Read on at your own peril, or skip it if you'd rather not :] (I haven't written one for aaaages, so if it sounds rubbish, feel free to say x])**

**(Rosie, if you're reading this, please don't! I won't be able to look you in the eye :'])**

* * *

To his amazement, Ruki had managed to finish his Jӓegermeister and the entire six pack of beer. Although his thoughts were wandering in a miasma of alcohol, he felt good. Better than he had in a while.

_You know what? I might just finish that bottle of Bell's._

He groped for it, like a man in the dark trying to find his way to the light, his hand eventually landing on the bottle's cool outer exterior. He sighed to himself, eying the ambery liquid as if it were some kind of elixir that was precious to him.

_You have problems, my man._ He thought to himself- feeling apprehensive- so he tried to shake it off with reasoning. He hadn't been this drunk in a while, so what more harm could it do? He opened the bottle- the tart, woody smell shrouding his nostrils and mitigating his thoughts. He took a small swig as he always did with the Bell's- to prepare himself. It burned more than usual on the way down, but he was too drunk to care.

There were still many people around him in the room, but the world had seemed to slow down because of the alcohol. Aoi was still playing poker in the corner, with a depleting circle of participants around him. They probably thought he was a strategist, or a cheat- in reality, he was neither. Even when he was drunk, Aoi still managed to hold up his persona of being a rational thinker and an utter genius- he was the only one out of all of them to have gained a place at the prestigious Tokyo Institute of Technology to do the incredibly nerdy degree subject of Aerospace Engineering. Had Ruki not been waiting for Rei to come back, he'd have gone over there and joined him in the game- he'd had his fair share of experience with poker. For some reason though, Rei was taking ages.

_What the hell's he doing?_ He thought to himself, a little worriedly. He wasn't bothered about drifting alone, saying hi to people here and there who he knew occasionally, but it wasn't like Rei to just say "I'll be back in a minute" and actually _take_ any longer than that. He swallowed another mouthful of Bell's, which went down smoother than the previous belt and eyed the door.

A face did appear then, that he knew. His perception swam in front of his eyes and he tried to focus the little pieces of image together. He finally realised it was Ru, shoving past the crowds of people in front of the door and crammed into the room, but something was wrong. Very wrong. Ru's face was distorted into an expression of panic and he was yelling for him. Ruki tried to move through the group of girls in front of him, but as his balance was off, he simply got pushed back. Ru pushed through them instead, panting softly when he arrived at Ruki's side.

"Ruk, we need the first aid kit." he explained hastily, jostled by the group around him, "We need it right now- someone's hurt. The others are outside trying to help her, but she's bleeding heavily and we need to cover it properly immediately."

"Who is it?" Ruki asked worriedly in response, trying very hard, for the sake of his friend, to disguise the slur in his voice.

"I don't know. I couldn't see her face. She must have arrived when I was out getting booze earlier."

Ruki closed his eyes, trying to think where he'd stashed the kit. He never used it, his room was a mess and he was drunk, so it wasn't easy. He thought he remembered seeing it recently when he cleared his wardrobe out the other week to get rid of all of the old pizza boxes he had stashed in there. Maybe it was sitting on a pile of old socks or something.

"I think I know where it is." He said to Ru, his memory and rationality suddenly sparking. He put down the bottle of Bell's. "Come up with me and help me find it."

* * *

Although he shouldn't have done, Kai had ignored Ruki's request about staying out of his room. It was probably the combination of both being drunk and horny at the same time which had made him completely forget about it, or the fact that at that moment, the cute brunette- Mimi, her name was- was currently topless and on her knees, giving him head as if there were no tomorrow.

Kai groaned, his eyes rolling back into his head with the ecstasy of the act. She was fucking _good_. Her tongue slid over the length of his shaft as she toyed with it- as if her mouth was designed for his own personal pleasure. Every time she drew her mouth over him, she made a sound as if what she was doing was as pleasurable as eating strawberries; the same scent as her hair. If he didn't come while she was doing this to him; he figured, smirking, he was going to have her so hard that, by comparison, every other time she'd been had would compare to a six second screw with the guy who served burgers at the fast food place down the street. He wanted her to _remember_ - no, _savour_ it.

She grasped the back of his thighs to hold herself steady, her elaborate nails digging into his skin as she caressed the tip with her tongue. Kai loved her hunger. He fisted her hair, forcing her to go deeper for him; to which she complied, as if it were both natural and practical. He knew he was close to coming, which he did, promptly, a few moments later.

"Ahh... fuck," He gasped, feeling it start, "Mimi, I'm going to-"

Kai let out a yell as he came, so hard that his whole body shook. Stars flashed in his vision; hallucinations of light across the dimply lit room. Gasps escaped his throat, his chest rising and falling almost to the rhythm of his release, her head cradled in his hands.

Then, the door burst open.

* * *

Rei left to find Ru before we could call him back. He looked furious, almost to the point of hysteria. Friend or not, he didn't care and didn't want to listen to any excuses. Although I had only just met Ru, he really didn't seem like that kind of person- we'd all been expecting her to say "Kai's" without a moment's doubt. The shock to us all had been pretty huge.

"Wait-" Aisha murmured helplessly as Rei left, his hands balled into fists, "Rei, wait-"

"Let him beat up the fucker," Taeko said, almost excited in her anger, "he deserves it."

"It's not like that though," Aisha explained, looking worried, "he doesn't know. It happened about three weeks ago at the Undergrad Law Party- we both got drunk and then woke up together naked on the bathroom floor of my parents' house. They came back early, just after he left and made me stay in. They don't like me going out because I'm apparently 'stupid and thoughtless', so I couldn't make an emergency trip to the hospital and get the necessary pill."

"In that case," I said to her, frowning, "why didn't he notice it was you?"

She sighed. I could feel the pain in it, but she tried to smile.

"He invited me here, but I hadn't seen him all night up to that point, as I've been out in the garden for the most part of the party so far. Maybe he didn't see me, or recognise me. Or at least, I hope that's why. He doesn't-"

"-seem the type." Me and Taeko exhumed, simultaneously.

"Exactly." She replied sadly, shrugging. She grasped my arm, tightly, her eyes pleading. "Please stop him. He's drunk and he'll do something really stupid if you don't. I don't want either of them getting hurt."

I nodded in reply, getting up to enter the house.

"I'll stay here," Taeko said firmly, holding Ai, "someone needs to keep an 'Ai' on you... geddit?"

Ai looked at her apologetically, "I'm sorry?"

"Never mind." Taeko replied grumpily.

* * *

As soon as the door opened to his room, Ruki gaped, horrified. He was drunk, but the sight was pretty easy to interpret. One can imagine how disturbing it is to see a friend naked, but to see them with a dreamy expression after blowing their load into someone's mouth is in a slightly greater league in terms of self-damage. He gagged, trying not to throw up at the disturbing mental image that was burned into his eyes- which probably wouldn't be leaving his mind for the next _forever_.

"Kai!" He yelled furiously, his anger surfacing in a rush, "What the _fuck_??"

The girl shrieked, jumping away from Kai and covering herself with her arms. Kai himself turned to face Ruki, his expression a mixture of surprise and gormlessness, his pants still around his ankles. Ruki groaned, disgusted, trying to shield the view with his hands. He heard Uruha coming up behind him hurriedly and he turned around.

"What's wrong Ruk, I heard noises-"

"Don't look in my room." Ruki told him, quietly, trying to keep as calm as he could, even though he actually felt like screaming, "Go back down- I'll be there in a minute."

As soon as Ru left, Ruki turned back to face Kai. The girl was struggling to put back on her clothes. If Ruki's facial expression was half as emotive as his actual feelings, Kai's face seemed to show it, because he looked pretty scared.

"It was an accident man," Kai started hurriedly, pulling up his trousers, "it just happened."

Ruki budged past him, ramming into his shoulder angrily. He opened his wardrobe, looking for the kit, which he found lodged on a shelf. He picked it up and slammed the door, but didn't move, his hands resting on the smooth wood. The girl had taken this as an obvious hint to leave, which she did, hurrying out rapidly, one breast hanging out of her top. Kai opened his mouth to tell her, but thought better of it and stayed quiet.

"Kai," Ruki laughed suddenly, a dangerous tone in his voice, "I honestly don't know why I bother to ask you anything anymore. You either don't listen or you don't care. You don't get how lucky you are, either- girls horde around you all the time and yet, because you know this to be true, you treat them like shit."

"I wouldn't say that-" Kai started, feeling embarrassed, but Ruki cut across him.

"Yes you do." Ruki said to him, cold anger swelling in his voice as much as it was in his veins. "You have no clue. You use them and then you leave them- don't you ever stop to think about the pain you cause? You do it to your friends as well- you treat Aoi like crap and you ignore everything anyone asks you if it interferes with something _you_ want to do. The situation right now is just another example of you just being plain selfish."

Because Kai knew that most of what Ruki had said was true, he felt ashamed and guilty. He didn't feel like admitting it though. He didn't like confrontations and he especially wasn't used to fighting with his friends; they usually simply called him a manwhore and laughed about it. So, he got defensive.

"Come on Ruk, give me a _break_." He retorted back, sounding almost angry, "It was an accident! I already said I was _sorry_, for God's sake."

"Save it." Ruki replied flatly. He shoved past Kai again on his way out and slammed the door, leaving Kai in the dark; alone in the horrible aftermath.


	8. 7: Thoughtless

Uruha trudged down the stairs as Ruki had told him to begrudgingly. He wondered what had happened- by the sounds of it, Kai had been his usual self. He wished he could have stuck around to see, but Ruki had looked really mad, so he didn't argue. Ruki didn't get angry very often, but when he did, he was really scary if you crossed him.

He reached the bottom of the stairs and turned into the hall. No sooner than had his feet reached the ground, a hand shot out from seemingly nowhere and grabbed his collar; forcing him against the wall.

"Just the man I wanted to talk to." Reita whispered, notes of anger in his voice. Ru was so shocked that, for a moment, he couldn't speak. Rei pressed hard against his neck, choking him, so hard that he retched. Ru raised his hands to Rei's, trying to prise them loose, but his grip was incredibly strong.

"Rei," Ru choked, his eyes swivelling to plead with Rei's, "what are you doing? Get off me! I can't breathe!" He looked around for help, but the hall was surprisingly empty.

"You know what this is about, you idiot!" Rei yelled, his grip staying firm, "Don't give me that bullshit!"

"I really don't!" Ru insisted, gagging, clawing at Rei's hands, "Please Rei, I swear to God I don't."

Rei let him go. He looked Ru over disgustedly, shaking his head.

"Seriously man; I'd have expected it from Kai, but not from you. I thought you were a good guy."

Ru rubbed his sore neck, still perplexed. He didn't understand what Rei was saying. Had he said or done something wrong?

"What did I do?" He asked Rei, confusion in his voice. He hoped to God Rei believed he was being genuine.

"Go outside and ask her, you fuckwit," Rei replied furiously, gesturing towards the door with his head, "if you're that confused about what you've done."

Now Ru was really lost. He met Rei's eyes, trying to search for some kind of answer, but came up with nothing more receptive to his memory than a cold, hard glare. After around thirty seconds of searching, Ru found his voice again.

"Ask who?"

Rei laughed sarcastically, leaning against the wall by Ru and blocking his path to the kitchen. Ru didn't like it- he felt really threatened- but he figured that his own personal feelings apparently meant nothing at this point in time. He knew Rei's anger at whatever had happened was fuelled partially by his drunkenness, but he thought better of bringing that up as well.

"Remember a girl called Aisha Ai, by any chance?" Rei asked him, his eyes narrowed.

Indeed, Ru knew Aisha. He'd asked her to the party after sleeping with her a couple of weeks ago. He liked her; they'd texted each other a fair bit since then up to now. He didn't think Ai had accepted his invitation though; because he hadn't seen her the entire night and she hadn't texted him to say she was coming. He felt disappointed now, actually. He'd really hoped to get to know her. But why would Rei bring Ai up when he hadn't told anyone about her?

"Yeah, I do," Uruha replied coolly in response, "why?"

Rei's eyes shifted from Uruha's to the door at the end of the hall which led into the kitchen. And then, Ru understood- with a horrible cold thud in his chest- who it really was out in the garden, crying their eyes out.

_Oh my God..._ he realised, feeling terrible. He clapped a hand to his mouth. He couldn't believe how much of a jerk he felt. The idea that it was Ai hadn't occurred to him, but now it was obvious; the pieces falling together in his mind.

_That's why she didn't text me_, he remembered, with growing guilt, _or why I hadn't seen her all night. How could I have been stupid enough to miss that?_

"Remember now?" Rei asked quietly, some of the anger disappearing in his voice. Ru nodded, not able to meet his eyes.

_She probably thinks I'm a complete dick._ He thought to himself, miserably.

Ruki appeared then from the base of the stairs, nearly colliding with them both. His anger at Kai dissolved immediately at the sight of his two friends, who both looked terrible.

"What's going on?" He asked, worried.

* * *

Kai lay in the darkened room, wrestling with the thoughts in his mind. He wasn't used to feeling this way; he almost felt too young for it. The concept sounded ridiculous to him, but it was the only means he had to describe his feelings. His face was blank, like a doll's, his pupils dilated and fixated on the ceiling; which was there but couldn't be seen.

_Am I really that bad?_ He thought to himself, appalled, _Is that the impression I really give to everyone? That I only care about three people; me, myself and I? Surely they can see that I'm deeper than that!_

He knew a lot of the ideas in his head were due to him being drunk, but Ruki's words had really hurt him. Kai, in actuality, was deeper than the 'shallow puddle' everyone made him out to be. He acted airheaded because he liked to come across light-hearted; but he wasn't really like that. He had a strong sense of common sense as well as a decent conscience, but he always made the same mistake of blocking them out. He figured that he wanted to enjoy his youth to the full rather than worrying about accommodating _everyone_ and being careful _all_ the time- which, he had spent most of his life until his mid teens doing. Was that really so wrong?

Kai knew that Ruki had been drunk when he said everything before and hadn't really meant all of it. Even though he knew that, he couldn't stop the thoughts coming. He heard the first trickle of guests leaving downstairs, their coats and bags softly scraping the walls; audible for a brief moment when the track on the previously booming ipod dock changed. Although it was still fairly early, he figured they were the ones that had to travel far across town and didn't want to have to use the late bus for transport. He got up and left the room, originally to go and say goodbye, but stopped instead when he reached the stairs. He turned around and went towards the room that he shared with Aoi, slid across the bolt lock and picked up his laptop which was charging in a corner. For the first time since Kai Yutaka could remember, he didn't feel like socialising.

* * *

"Rei! Where are you?"

After a few minutes of searching rooms, I had grown tired. Some people had left, but the majority were still around; some in the kitchen pouring out drinks, but most compacted into the living room playing spin the bottle (bar a scattered few involved in a game of poker in the corner). I fought my way across the room to the door, which fed me out into the hall and what looked like an uncomfortable situation.

The both of them were there, all right, along with another guy I didn't know. Uruha looked horrified; his neck red with what looked like hand-marks.

"Rei!" I exclaimed angrily, forcing him to turn around, "What have you done? Look at his neck!"

"What do you mean?" He retorted, almost casually, "I'm dealing some justice. Even if he is my friend, I don't let people get away with treating others like crap."

"It's not his fault," I shot back, "he doesn't know."

"Know what?" Ru cried, exasperated. He met my eyes, his own full of guilt.

"Talk to Ai herself," Rei retorted sarcastically, "if you remember who she is."

"I swear to God," Ru whispered, "I didn't know it was her. I couldn't see her through you all and I didn't honestly think she was coming."

Rei's face immediately softened and his body, initially tense, relaxed; his hands unclenching. He bit his lip. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the other guy come up to Ru and put his hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry Ru." Rei said softly, out of the uncomfortable silence. Ru made a notion with his head as if he understood, but said nothing.

"You should go and talk to her Ru," I told him, "she's still outside. It's really important."

Ru nodded, moved the other guy's hand off his shoulder- although, not unkindly- and left.

The other guy turned to Rei and then back to me, his expression perplexed.

"I really hope this doesn't sound stupid, but is everything okay?" He asked, meeting my eyes.

I shouldn't have been, but I was daydreaming; having a moment which I couldn't describe. I examined his face: his flawless skin, his eyes and his red hair. I ought to have been ashamed of myself, looking at him as I was, but for some reason I wasn't and- although he looked confused- he seemed to be looking back at me in the same way. He smiled at me and I was completely unable to stop myself from grinning back and feeling stupid.

"How rude of me," he said, thankfully not noticing my gormlessness, "I'm Ruki Matsumoto. I've not met you before, have I?"

"No," I blurted out, "I just moved in across the road."

_This is the guy, Miro_, I thought to myself, _you've met __the__ guy_. _And, as usual, he probably already thinks you're weird._

I wished I could stop staring at Ruki, but I couldn't. There was too much to like all at once and I couldn't stop admiring every last angle of him. I shook my head, trying to pull myself together. Reita was looking at us both funny, as if we were in on a joke which he didn't get. It was a 'joke' that I hoped I wasn't giving away too obviously.

"I'm Miroko- Miro- Kawasaki." I announced, almost proudly.

Had my 'inner child' been watching me make an idiot of myself; she would have left right then, shaking her head.


	9. 8: Aoi Shiroyama's Poker Face

Uruha's neck stang like hell. Although he had left the others behind him in the hallway to clear up the previous situation's formidable mess; when he entered the kitchen, for a moment he couldn't move. He stared blankly at the patio doors at the edge of the room, wondering what he'd say to her. His reflection stared back at him from the abyss of dark; a worried, boyish ghost.

He gritted his teeth, forcing his legs to move against his will. He couldn't let the guilt he felt override his strength. He wouldn't. He pushed aside the patio doors and stepped into the cold, seemingly endless dark of the garden.

Neither of the girls had moved from the spot where Ai had collapsed. He now saw her face- a delicate, lovely expression of beauty; not unlike a flower. It dismayed him horribly to see that she looked so terribly sad. Had he caused that? God, what had he done?

Taeko looked up, her pixie features immediately expressing her gratitude and relief. She looked at him, smiling- it was nice to see that she'd given him the benefit of the doubt unlike Rei. He felt he'd earned it.

"Uruha."

Ai's expression perked a little, but she didn't look up. She seemed lost in her own world, rolling the glass to and fro in her hands. She seemed fixated on it, as if she were hypnotised. The truth was, she didn't think she could look into his eyes.

"Ai," Ru said softly, kneeling down to her level, "I'll understand if you don't want to, but could we please talk?"

Her courage flared a little, so she met his gaze. His eyes were beautiful. No, _he_ was beautiful. She felt terrible that she had to tell him the news she had to bring. On the other hand, she was also incredibly frightened that he wouldn't care and would leave her alone with it. Why should she expect him to care? Sure, he'd given _her_ attention over the last couple of weeks, but he could get any girl he wanted. Ai thought about that while she was looking at him and a feeling of accepted defeat overruled her. She was pretty sure he'd have nothing to do with her when he knew. She reckoned it was probably just best to get it over and done with.

"Sure." She replied, sounding a little more flat than she had intended to. She tried to get up, but as she had been so focussed on everything else around her, her legs had gone dead from kneeling for so long. She fell back down like an injured doe, slamming her hand on a rock as she landed. She cried out in pain; a trickle of warm blood meandering down the creamy skin of her arm.

Ru didn't hesitate, or explain what he was doing; he simply acted. He raced back inside to the hall to where the others were.

"The first aid kit," he breathed, Ruki looking at him shocked, "give me the first aid kit. I need to be alone with her."

Ruk nodded and handed over the green pouch he was holding. It was surprisingly heavy but felt reassuring to him. He ran back through the kitchen to Ai and Taeko; the kit clenched safely to his chest and knelt down before Ai, opened the kit and retrieved a strip of adhesive butterfly stitches.

"Give me your hand." Ru told her. She removed Rei's shirt- which was soaked in blood- and held her hand out to him. Ru rummaged through the bag again for a moment; coming out with a packet of antiseptic wipes, some surgical scissors and a roll of fabric bandage. He took out one of the wipes and gently, as not to hurt her, buffed away the blood and dirt. He used smooth strokes- even though his hands were large and coarse skinned- and moved patiently, treating her own hand as if it were precious to him. Ai felt touched by the way he was caring for her. Had he been as gentle and smooth when he'd had her those three weeks ago? She wished she could remember properly, but it was all a frustrating blur.

When Ru had finished, he slowly peeled off, one by one, the butterfly stitches; laying four in a criss-cross arrangement across her wound. The cut had mostly stopped bleeding, but Ru wanted to be sure. When he felt satisfied that their glue had dried, he sliced off a long strip of bandage, carefully wrapping it around her hand and securing it with a knot at the end of her wrist.

Ai examined the work he'd done and smiled. It had been the first time that night that'd she'd felt anything close to happiness. She hoped so much that it wouldn't be ruined.

"I'll leave you both." Taeko told them, getting up. She gave Ru an admiring smile as she entered the kitchen behind them and slid across the door.

When she was sure they were fully alone, Ai finally spoke again.

"Thank you."

"It's nothing," Ru replied softly, "it really isn't." He took her hand in hers, massaging it. "God," he said, aghast, "you're freezing."

It was indeed cold outside, but the throw-blanket provided Ai with adequate cover over most of her body, so she didn't feel it. She took her hand from his, looking away.

"It's nothing. I'm fine." She tried to get up again and immediately felt her legs giving way, but this time, Ru caught her as she fell; holding her in his muscled arms as if she were as light as a doll.

"I've got you." He said to her softly, her delicate legs dangled over his forearms like a pair of intricate windchimes. Aisha had expected him to put her down immediately; instead, he carried her across the garden. She felt weightless in his arms, as if she were flying- he moved with her so effortlessly.

There was an old garden swing at the bottom of the garden made of wood and rusted iron. Uruha set Ai down gently, wrapping the blanket around her to keep her warm and sat next to her. The both of them stayed silent for a while, as if trying to find the right words.

"Ai," he murmured suddenly, "I'm so sorry. I really didn't know it was you."

"It's okay." She replied, feeling nervous to the point of sickness. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. It was time.

"Uruha," she began, trying not to let her voice crack, "I have some news to tell you."

A horrible feeling of nausea and dread crept into Ru's stomach at her words. He already knew what she was going to say. Ai's voice cracked and broke in a whimper. She was unable to finish.

"Is it mine?" He whispered tentatively after a few minutes, trying not to stutter. He didn't want her to think he was a coward or a fool.

"Yes." She replied, her voice thick.

Another period of silence, much worse than the last, overwhelmed them both. Uruha's heart was thudding horribly and his sweat was ice. He didn't know what he was going to do, what to think, what his _parents_ would do-

He heard muffled sobs next to him. She was crying. Uruha put his arm around her, swallowing his feelings. He had to lie in the place he made. He wasn't going to let her do it alone.

"Shhh," he whispered to her, touching her face, "don't cry. We'll figure something out." He held her to him as her feelings ran free, her arm extending around him to reciprocate the embrace. She swallowed, a relieved, joyful sound escaping her lips. Ru stroked her toffee coloured hair; running the strands between his fingers like silky ribbons.

"Do you really mean it?" She whispered to him, her glance meeting his. Ru nodded, cupping her chin in his hand. He really cared for Ai- she was so vulnerable; breakable even. He couldn't stand the thought of hurting her.

"I do." He replied. "I promise." He lowered his lips to hers, gently kissing her; her soft lips brushing with his own. He felt a tear trickle onto his cheek and her arms tighten around him. He wished he could have developed it further, but it wouldn't have been appropriate or fair on her.

He released the kiss and sat back on the swing, still holding her- and they both began to talk.

* * *

While Ru and Ai were talking, me, Taeko, Rei and Ruki were doing tequila shots in the kitchen. Taeko had brought a bottle in her bag; the one which she had used to knock on the door earlier. We were playing a game to lighten the mood of things, which, sufficient to say, was working. Rock, paper, scissors, tequila- the loser of each round had to down a shot. Raw. No lime, no salt- nothing. I was against Taeko and was, to my surprise, winning; even though I'd downed six shots.

"Ha!" I announced triumphantly, my scissors cutting Taeko's paper, "You fail!"

Taeko groaned, pouring herself out another shot. The first few had made her cough- as they left her throat raw on the way down- but she was either getting used to it or becoming too drunk to notice. It was probably a combination of both. She chucked it back as fast as she could, trying not to let the burning fluid touch her tongue, which I thought she managed quite well.

"There," she croaked, "happy?"

"Yup."

I heard Rei yell out, pounding his fist in the air.

"All right!! Now down that shot, loser."

Ruki glared at him, pouring out a double dose of the liquid fire which he chucked down his throat. He smiled and began to make a retort, but paused. All of a sudden, he didn't look so good. He groaned, doubling over, retching noises escaping his throat.

"Quick, Miro!" Rei yelled, holding him up, "We need to help him into the bathroom!!"

"No time!" I yelled; Ruki's gagging noises becoming more frequent, "Get him over to the sink!"

We got him there just in time; as soon as his mouth was over the sink, he projectile-vomited the contents of his stomach rapidly. Rei rubbed his back, smiling.

"Let it out man, let it out." He told Ruki, gently. Ruki glanced at him gratefully, turned his head back to the stew in the sink and threw up again.

"Is there anything I can do?" Taeko asked us both, worriedly eying Ruki.

I thought she'd done enough for one night; she'd sat outside all that time in the cold with Ai. It was about time she went off and enjoyed herself.

"Don't worry," I replied, smiling at her, "I'll stick with Rei and help out."

"Are you sure?" Taeko asked, biting her lip in her kooky way, "I'll feel really bad."

"Honestly, don't worry," I repeated, "you've done loads. Go off and have fun while you're still drunk, for God's sake girl!"

Taeko laughed; her mind walking on sunshine. She left the kitchen behind and went on a wander.

* * *

"You sure you don't want to come with us?" One of the poker guys asked Aoi, who promptly shook his head.

"Nah, thanks man. Think I'll sit off here for a while, you know, just chill out."

The guy shrugged, got up from the table and left, everyone else following suit. The guests had all decided that they'd felt like going out on the town that night; those that didn't want to go were either on the xbox in the games room/converted dining room, or had left early. Aoi, therefore, was left alone in the living room.

He turned the ipod dock- containing a girl's pink ipod- down and lit up a cigarette, one foot resting up on the chair next to him. He knew he wasn't supposed to smoke indoors, but nobody was around and he was too drunk to care. He sat back, taking a long toke, enjoying yet disliking the solemn quiet. He lay back on his chair, triumphant with his poker winnings.

Taeko came in through the door then, looking bewildered. She looked around the room and then to Aoi.

She wondered who he was. She hadn't seen him around that night. Her vision swam a little before focussing on his face. He wore a pair of sunglasses for some reason, even though it was both night-time and he was indoors, which she didn't understand- but the rest of his face was attractive; gorgeous even. His style was different, interesting- his cigarette resting between two long, slender fingers clad in leather biker's gloves with spiked knuckles. His T-shirt however, was tight, black and plain- the outline of his muscles visible and alluring. His bottom lip was pieced and moved a little when he exhaled, as if beckoning-even teasing- her. Taeko hopelessly felt her tongue creep into the corner of her mouth.

Aoi flicked his ebony black hair off his face, examining her. He hadn't seen her at all that night either- he didn't know how he'd missed her, considering he'd been in the room with the greatest populace in the house per square metre. He liked what he saw a hell of a lot- from her slender waist and considerably shapely curves to her clothes; a denim miniskirt, a Hello Kitty vest and burgundy, knee-high converse boots that matched her hair. He felt himself stir annoyingly, but left no sign on his face.

Shy, gentle Aoi was having a makeover that night.


	10. 9: Whiskey in the Jar

Ruki was in a dark place- his mind clouded with distortion. His whole body ached; his throat burning constantly as he released the toxins inside of him which, before, had seemed so pleasant. He didn't know where he was (nor did he care) but he knew that the girl he'd just met was near; helping him. He couldn't understand why- what had he done to deserve help? The situation he was in; was, after all, his own fault. He'd gotten drunk enough to throw up, sure, millions of times- but people usually just left him alone to deal with his own problems. He wasn't used to the attention. The girl had told him that her name was Miro; an uncommon, pretty name. He thought she suited 'Tink' more though; as her dress reminded him of magical places full of faries and butterflies-

_Dear God- how drunk __are__ you?_

Ruki retched again, hurling, a hand rubbing his back. It hurt more than the previous times before- maybe all he had left was just raw stomach acid. The stench was terrible from the sink where he'd thrown up; but he couldn't muster the strength to motivate himself.

Ruki looked up, his forehead creased. Reita looked back at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion. He sighed, disappointed, positioning his head back over the sink.

_Come on, Ruk- give the girl a break. Do you actually think someone like her's gonna sit around and watch you vomit?_

Ruki's vision suddenly began to haze; his eyes glazing over rapidly. He felt his knees giving way under him- everything feeling crushingly heavy.

_I'm going to faint_, he thought, amazed.

The ground rushed up around him as he lost his feet; falling back onto the hard linoleum floor. He braced his body for the impact, but none came; only hands holding him.

He exhaled one last time- and then, he knew silence.

* * *

Aoi lowered his sunglasses at Taeko, smiling at her. He didn't know how he was doing it; sober, he'd never have been able to look at her like he was, or, think the ideas he was thinking (at least, not with her or anyone else around). He didn't want her to think that he was checking her out as if she were a piece of meat. The skull and crossbone necklace she wore drew his gaze to her neckline; its faux ruby eyes gently winking at him in the gloom.

Taeko eyed him almost angrily. Sure, he was hot as hell, but come on- staring right at her boobs? She turned herself to the side, looking away from him huffily.

"I have eyes, you know." She remarked crossly.

_Feisty, eh?_ Aoi liked that. He knew he'd probably blown his chances if he'd had any at all- so, although the shy part in him was screaming for him to stop- he figured it couldn't hurt much to keep trying.

"If you must know," he retorted smoothly, his eyes returning to her face, "I was looking at your necklace. Flatter me, why don't you?"

Taeko looked back into his smiling, deep brown eyes and immediately felt embarrassed. She turned back to face him, smoothing her skirt awkwardly.

"I-I'm sorry." She stammered, blushing. What had she been thinking? Hadn't she been checking him out just as much? Maybe she had been flattering _herself_. She turned to leave, feeling stupid.

"What's the hurry?"

Taeko halted, surprised; turning back around to face the ravishing, mysterious Valkyrie.

"What?"

Aoi smirked, took another drag of his cigarette and tapped it into the jade ashtray beside his hand. The room around them was so quiet- he could actually hear the soft sound the ash made as it settled. He couldn't stop looking at her and thinking things he shouldn't- how cocky was he to think that she, pretty as she was, would see him as anything more attractive than a doorstop?

_It'll be fun finding out_, he thought pessimistically; his self esteem trying hard to claw down his confidence, _and- even if she does- she's probably a psycho. Every girl you've ever been with- no, associated with- has been nuts, haven't they, Shiroyama-san?_

He almost shuddered; trying to block out the memories, but still, amazingly, managed to retain his expression. He hoped to God the alcohol wasn't wearing off. He picked up a poker chip and rolled it back and forth between his knuckles.

"I don't even know your name." He said casually, although his heart was pounding hard enough to break through his chest. Even his body-well, the 'sensible' part, anyway- was telling him to give up. The not-so-sensible part was teaming up with the alcohol and trying to make him hard. He had to admit that it was an interesting little tug-of-war.

Taeko raised her eyebrow, smiling. He seemed so calm; like he hadn't minded. She wondered if she hadn't been misplaced in her thinking, after all.

"I don't know yours, either," She replied, coyly; putting a finger to her chin to mimic thought, "a gentleman introduces himself first, doesn't he?"

Aoi laughed, stubbing out his cigarette. He especially liked how she hadn't made a comment about it. Most girls eyed it disgustingly and judged him.

"Gentlemen also don't smoke around women and play poker." He replied; her eyes meeting the chip at his knuckles.

"Nice trick."

"I've got a few of those." He said, smiling. Her eyes widened a little.

_My God_, he thought, amazed, _Me- Aoi Shiroyama- actually being smooth?_

He stopped playing with the chip and flicked it up in the air. It span three times, landed on its side, rolled in a circle and finally fell on its front in the middle of the table.

He wondered tantalisingly how _she'd_ look on her front, over the table.

_Stop it_, Aoi scolded himself, _don't push your luck._ He immediately started to feel himself stirring again- worse this time. He was glad that he had a poker table to hide behind; his jeans were tight.

Taeko dug her purple nails into her palm and fought hard to bring herself back to the situation at hand and away from the thoughts she was having. Had she known what Aoi was thinking, they both would probably have skipped the small talk.

She heard the videogamers switching off next door and searched the room frantically for bags; preparing herself for an unpleasant interruption. However, nobody came in. She exhaled gently in relief, her eyes staring at the chip which had just stopped rolling.

"Nice to know I 'exhilarate you', so to speak." Aoi said, smirking, still not believing what he was saying.

"Tch," Taeko replied, laughing with faux-mockery, "that would be flattering you though, wouldn't it?"

_This just keeps getting better and better_. Aoi thought to himself. He bobbed the piercing in his lip with his tongue- a habit of his when he was thinking. The texture of it, however, wasn't helping.

"I don't get much," he replied, his voice earnest, "so, it never hurts."

"Yeah, right." Taeko said, flatly. "Like that's true."

Taeko realised how drunk she actually was. She never would have told him that when sober; under possibly even pain of death. Amazingly though, she didn't even care- she knew he wouldn't mind.

Aoi, however, actually felt amazing. It was the first compliment he'd gotten from a woman for about six months- the last one was from his mother, remarking on his haircut. It'd been a far longer time since then that he'd been laid- not that he was expecting to be tonight by 'Miss. Anon. Burgundy'- but the thought annoyingly crept into his mind as easily and as naturally as the act itself; or, at least supposedly. He looked away from her- eying the poker table.

An idea came to mind. A crazy, stupid idea that was pretty much 'make or break'. He picked up the chip, positioning it between the two fingers that had held his Malboro Menthol earlier.

"Do you play?" He asked Taeko softly, his brown eyes turning back to her.

Taeko laughed; almost thinking she'd misheard him. She looked side to side, as if she expected him to be asking someone else; but, of course, she was alone. All of a sudden, she felt nervous again.

"A little," She replied, as casually as she could while tossing back her hair, "why?"

"Because I want to know your name."

"You're quite the persistent one, aren't you?"

"I thought women liked men with 'stamina'."

Taeko blushed, fiercely. She really hoped it wasn't obvious.

"And what do I get if I win?"

"The 'gentleman approach'," Aoi replied, smiling, "and a drink on me, if you'll take it. Incidentally, you're even more adorable when you blush."

Taeko looked at the floor; sweat trickling between her breasts in an alluring stream. Aoi held his breath- the calm face he'd put on felt close to shattering. There was a brief pause before she spoke.

"Deal." She replied, softly.


	11. 10: Rebel, Rebel

I examined Ruki's features as me and Rei lay him down gently on the cold kitchen floor. It was a contradiction of beauty and illness- he looked terrible, but his face was still flawless. His red hair was messed- his fringe matted to his forehead with sweat; his complexion pale, almost white. Ruki's dark eyelashes rested on his cheeks as his consciousness left him; shallow breaths escaping his full lips. I touched his skin with the back of my hand; the smooth texture being welcome to my own.

_Ruki..._ I thought, sighing to myself, _Just as I wanted to get to know you._

"How is he?" Reita asked, his blonde hair falling sleekly over his face as he knelt down beside his friend. The more I looked at Rei's noseband (even though the situation was obviously currently dire) the more I couldn't help but wonder why he wore it. Did he ever take it off for sleep? For work? When he had sex?

It didn't make him any less good looking, though. If anything, it made him alluring. I hoped I'd find out if I got to know him better- even though it wasn't a factor concerned at all _in_ me getting to know him. Rei shook his golden bangs out of the way and smiled at me, listening. He wore a silver hoop earring in the cartilage of his ear which he kept flicking when there were moments of quiet between us both.

"I think we should probably get him to bed," I replied eventually, a little sadly, "he's been extremely sick and it's somewhat likely that he's going to catch a chill if we keep him out here like this."

Rei nodded. "I agree with you completely. The guy's flat out- he won't be up until past noon tomorrow, at _least_."

Rei leant over, grasping Ruki's shoulders in his forearms and then made a signal to me to grab his feet with a motion of his head. I grasped Ruki's ankles- one in each arm.

"Ready... heave!"

We lifted Ruki off the ground as gently as we could, being careful so not to drop or bump him. For a guy who was so slender and toned, he was surprisingly heavy- maybe it was all muscle. Panting heavily, we carried his body to the foot of the stairs and set him down at the bottom; contemplating how to overcome such an obstacle.

Me and Rei looked at the stairs for a little while- our eyes slowly creeping toward the closed living room door- and exchanged glances immediately.

"Sofa?" We both said together, sounding relieved.

Rei opened the door to the living room, peering around it as so not to disturb the people inside. There were people in there, all right. He just didn't suspect who it might have been and who with. He closed it quickly, grinning.

I knew what that look meant- it was the same for every guy.

"What's going on in there?" I asked him, mock confusion in my tone; to which Rei responded with a laugh.

"I believe Aoi and Taeko have just met each other." He replied, gleefully. I started to head over to go in and say hi, but Rei held up a hand to stop me.

"Taeko's a nice girl." Rei explained to me, still grinning, "Aoi could really do with someone like her; he's had the worst luck with women imaginable. His previous partner of two years beat him up and stole his car."

I looked at the door, feeling bad for the poor guy- and had an idea.

"Do you think we could get out of the house and leave them?" I asked Rei, trying to keep my voice down so that they wouldn't hear, "I mean... so they won't be disturbed? Everyone here could stay over the road with us for the night- Yuki won't mind if we explain. She seems to really like you all."

Rei thought for a moment and nodded. "Might just be an idea, actually."

"Could you carry Ruki on your back?"

"Sure," Rei began, but then his face went funny; as if he'd realised something disturbing.

"Ever since he went upstairs, I've not seen Kai all night. He was up there with a girl before; though I met Ru in the hall earlier- after he'd _come_ from upstairs but was without the first aid kit- and Ruk, when he came down further on, looked furious. Kai's not normally the antisocial type; so, saying that, I really hope he's not gone anywhere or done something stupid."

There was a sudden shuffling in the kitchen of boots being searched for and laced; the loud videogame noises ending. We looked around confusedly and several geeky looking guys burst out of the kitchen with exhilarated looks on their faces.

"Right," the middle guy with the glasses (who Rei knew as Takashi) announced, "we're off. Great night, man- but you seriously need to improve your broadband connection. We got shut off from home base several times and then got gunned down by Nazis."

"Wait a sec." Rei called to them, turning to me.

"What's up?"

"I have an idea-" Rei told me, just out of earshot, "if you take Ruk to your aunt's; there might be a better chance of her being understanding if it's just you and him- while I go and round up the others dotted around here. I know it's asking a lot and it's a bit sleazy because she's your aunt... but I can't actually express how much Aoi needs a break."

It was a pretty good plan, bar a single fatal flaw.

"How am I going to carry him?" I asked, a bit distressed, "As you've probably noticed by now, I have all the upper body strength of a dead horse."

Rei rolled his eyes and turned to the geeky guys. "Takashi," he asked, grinning, "because you love me so much, you wouldn't be willing to give this fair lady a hand carrying the gentleman on the stairs, would you? She only needs to go across the road."

Glasses guy- who was now presumably Takashi- looked shocked for a second, but he then bowed and posed like a superhero; flexing his thin arms as if he actually had biceps.

"Takashi power!" He announced, a bit too loudly. I exchanged glances with Rei, who simply shrugged. Somehow, the flaw I'd previously seen looked an awful lot worse with help than without.

* * *

When Aoi had suggested that 'Miss Anon. Burgundy' play a game of poker against him, he had arrogantly expected it to have been an easy victory on his part. Much to his surprise however, she was ruthless- a real tactician; never missing a punch. She matched his hand or better every time and he was bleeding chips badly. Sure, he'd gone a little easier on her at the beginning because it was 'gentlemanly', but she'd seen through his act and taken full advantage of what she'd gained from him; so he had precious little choice but to put more of himself into the game.

"Whose turn to deal?" Aoi asked as calmly as he could, pushing his glasses up his nose so she wouldn't gain an opportunity later to read him.

"Yours." Taeko replied briskly, examining her nails. One of her nails had a chip in the paint which irritated her. She was feeling good though- doing as well as she was against 'Gorgeous Anonymous'. She'd not played poker since she was a kid; so it was nice to see she'd still kept her touch.

Taeko wasn't sure what she thought of him yet. Sure, he was astoundingly attractive, unique and charming (in a dirty way); but he also seemed a little on the cocky side, which annoyed her- not enough to cease the feeling of wanting to mount him- but enough for her to want to beat him at the game. Plus, there was a free drink in it and Taeko, like most students, figured that a free drink was a free drink.

Saying that though, she knew he, like she was, happened to be pretty drunk at that moment in time; it was rather astounding really how well they were managing to play against each other- maybe he wasn't really cocky. She wished she knew what to make of him.

Aoi shuffled the deck rapidly and flicked out cards for each of them; the round beginning again.

Half an hour later, he'd lost around half of his chips and it was getting embarrassing. He took off his glasses, setting them down on the table in front of him. He figured that they didn't seem to be doing him much good. He met Taeko's eyes and she blushed, hopelessly.

Taeko felt ridiculous; like a little schoolgirl. She really wasn't used to being around guys that had the effect that this one had on her. His gaze was stupidly intense; his eyes almond shaped, deep and dark. She felt her nipples toughen; unable to stop looking back into them. Drunk or not, she really didn't care about any decision she made concerning him that night; it didn't matter to her. Taeko hadn't been involved with many men, at least not sexually; so these feelings came as a great surprise. All things said and done, she was going to let him put up a fight for her- she refused to seem easy.

Aoi bit his lip; noticing how much the tinge on her cheekbones when she blushed made them glow in comparison to her normally cream skin. He warmed inside hopelessly to her, finding her constantly more and more attractive as the minutes ticked by. He hadn't wanted someone so badly in a long while- his libido at that current moment in time was urging him furiously to the point of absolutely intense frustration.

_If I lose this_, he thought to himself, _what will she think of me? That I'm simply a person that's 'all talk' and nothing more?_

Whoever won the game should have been an irrelevant factor in the moment they shared; after all, essentially, if Aoi lost, he'd get a date with her. For some reason, his fucking masculine pride had jumped on the line and refused to budge; which he really didn't need. Aoi wasn't sexist to any degree at all- the contrary, in fact- he'd just been very set on impressing her and felt a bit ashamed that his skills seemed the same- if not less- than her own.

Then, all of a sudden, he had another crazy idea. Aoi smirked at Taeko and grasped his chips; hauling them towards the middle of the table.

"What are you-" Taeko began, surprised.

"Making things interesting." Aoi replied, his hair falling forward as he leant over the table.

"I'm listening."

"All or nothing." Aoi told Taeko softly, his heart pounding, "Highest hand in one deal wins. Because- like it or not- when this game ends, I'm going to have to kiss you. And I need to do that sooner rather than later."

Shock hit Taeko full force in the chest like a punch. She felt lost for words; unable to speak- a warm feeling filling her like streams into a river. The feeling of want was becoming much stronger; to the point of being nearly unbearable. She gritted her teeth; trying to concentrate it into a ball which she could control, before she either jumped him or released herself.

She managed to gain enough concentration to nod and push her sizable pile of chips to the centre, trying very hard to avoid his eyes.

"Hit me."

"I'll serve you a round of cards, but I'd rather chew my own arm off than hit a woman."

"You knew what I meant." Taeko replied, smiling; her face cooling a little. Charming, funny, sexy and gorgeous seemed a little too good to be true. Maybe he was just taunting her, after all.

Aoi served out the round; feeling incredibly apprehensive. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Taeko pick up her cards and grin.

_That's it_, he thought, _I lose_.

He bent his cards upwards to look, shielding them from her view. His eyes widened, a balloon of hope generating in his chest. If it burst, he thought he'd faint.

"Ready to show?" Taeko asked him, an eyebrow raised.

"You first."

Taeko smirked, laying out her cards one by one on the table. Aoi followed them with his eyes, wincing to see if the balloon had a reason to pop. But none came- and when she finally lay out the last card of her hand, exhilaration washed over him in a warm, gentle wave.

"Three kings." Taeko announced, triumphantly, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers.

Aoi closed his eyes, taking in the moment. He savoured it; as if it were like delectable food, or mature whisky. Slowly but surely, he brought his hand down to the table, spreading his cards as if they were made of something precious; his black fingernails scraping their surfaces gently. He paused for a moment, to taste the final few seconds, before he spoke.

"Four aces." He replied, softly.


	12. 11: Vicarious

When I arrived at the door, barely supporting Ruki over one arm and surrounded by a horde of videogamers, it was quite easy to imagine the immense look of confusion that scathed Aunt Yuki's features. I had forgotten to ask her for a key, so I'd had to wake her up by ringing the bell- which made me feel extremely bad; considering the fact that I'd only been there for one day. I supposed it was just as well; I'd have had to have woken her up anyway to ask if Ai, Ruki and the others could stay, but it might have been nicer if she hadn't have had such a shock as she did. Her yukata was crossed the wrong way, she wore no tabi and her once neat bun resembled a messy clump. Yuki's usually sparkling eyes were also tired and confused- I didn't like seeing her that way; she looked elderly and vulnerable, unlike the Aunt I was used to.

"Miro," she breathed, looking round perplexed, "what's going on?"

I really, really hoped that things went well for Aoi and Taeko- or else all of this would be for nothing. That- and also that she understood the reasons for us waking her up in the middle of the night. I took a deep breath and swallowed, hard.

"I'm so sorry for waking you like this, Aunt," I said, quietly, "but I have a friend that needs help and we can't stay in the boys' house- one of their friends needs it an awful lot. I know it's a great deal to ask, especially on such short notice, but could they stay here for the night? I will pay for them if I need to, cook, clean up- whatever you need."

"All of them?" She blurted out, shocked, looking at the gamer boys. They exchanged glances, realised what she was thinking and immediately started to panic.

"No-no, Yuki-san!" One of them; a short, chubby guy exclaimed, "We're only helping out- to get Miro and Ruki across the road."

"Yeah!" Takashi piped in, backing away, "We were just leaving; honestly."

The gamer boys all turned to leave, looking sheepish, but Yuki cut across them.

"No, no-"she exclaimed, looking embarrassed, "I'm sorry- I didn't mean to be so rude- but as you can imagine, it's not what one expects to be asked at three 'o clock in the morning. It's nothing personal, I promise. Can I offer you all tea for helping Miro? It's the least I can do."

The chubby guy started to say yes happily, but Takashi grabbed his shoulder and shook his head. The gamer guy's smile shrunk into a disappointed expression and he muttered something under his breath.

"Thank you kindly ma'am, but we need to be back for six am," Takashi explained, politely, "the new episode of Dr Who is airing and we HAVE to watch it before Sugimura does. He's the kind of guy that can't shut up for five seconds and would therefore give away the plot if we compromised our battle positions for the sake of tea."

Yuki looked at him as if he'd just spoken French. I giggled, shuffling Ruki over my arm a bit more to distribute his weight. It seemed a bit mean that they were about to just leave me and my Aunt with Ruki to carry- but as they'd helped me carry him across the road already, I couldn't really complain.

_Guess Dr Who calls..._ I thought to myself, waving at the four of them as they got into a beaten-up Nissan Micra outside the guys' house and sped off- Yuki's eyes meanwhile slipping to Ruki. Her expression changed from confused to disapproving and she tapped her foot impatiently.

"I'm guessing that he's the friend who needs help?" She asked me, sarcastically; but not in a nasty way. I started to reply and then realised the promise I'd made; so in response, I shook my head.

"He's a friend who needs help, but not _the_ friend who needs help, if you get me." I explained erratically, almost dropping Ruki, "I met someone today who quite desperately needs somewhere to stay; which I'll let her talk to you about when she comes. Her parents kicked her out because she found out she was pregnant- she literally has nowhere to live."

Yuki looked horrified, her previous ghostly complexion completely grey. Her expression calmed to a state of what an outsider would consider nonchalance- impossible to differentiate from, unless you knew her and met her eyes. They were full of white-hot fury, which I could clearly understand. Yuki was a caring soul who couldn't imagine trying to hurt someone she knew on purpose for the sake of revenge or shame; those things didn't matter to her, because love to her couldn't be manipulated according to what the person had done. It was a permanent thing that she was as dedicated to as her calligraphy. I wondered then if Taeko's room had the same lovely paintings mine did.

"Come on in, Miro," she said, finally, "we'll lie him down on the sofa. We'll sort out the rest when the time comes."

She put her arm over Ruki's shoulders and helped me to lift him. She grunted under his weight; her bones giving out a quiet, unhealthy sounding groan. With some effort, we managed to heave him though the hall and into the living room, laying him down gently. He was still unconscious, but his face was beginning to show signs of movement by twitches in his elegant, almost painted features.

"My Lord, he's a cutie." Yuki panted, admiring him, "If I was thirty years younger, I'd dive on him faster than you could say 'ex-husband'."

"Aunt!" I scolded, laughing, "Now is not the time to be gaping over hot men."

"Miro dear, it's_ always_ the time to be gaping over hot men."

Ruki snorted, making us both jump. I hoped he hadn't heard. I held my breath to see if he woke up; but he continued sleeping- his striking face in a state of calm. I began regressing back to the happy, daydreamy world I'd been in when I'd met him only a couple of hours ago. Would we ever talk again after this? Would he just forget all about me? I wouldn't have been surprised; he leached out an insane amount of pheromones even when unconscious- like an 'Uruha-mark-two' with a bit less 'Adonis' and a bit more 'cuteness' thrown in there for good measure. Saying that though, even though I was insanely attracted to him physically, I didn't know an awful lot about him, or what he was like as a person. General rule-of-thumb states that 'all attractive males are bell-ends or gay'- a theme I was all too familiar with.

_Think positive. You're not back home._

The guys who Taeko knew and introduced me to had all defied the rule frustratingly; by being both seemingly lovely people and also, straight (or maybe bi; I hadn't asked). I hoped with extreme hope that Ruki fit that rule- maybe Japan was _the_ place to find actual men in the world. He'd certainly _seemed_ nice- but you can't get much conversation out of people when they're downing tequila. That being said, when I thought about Reita, I knew already that he was a really nice guy- as well as being incredibly hot. A bubbly feeling crept over me. I guess it didn't hurt to look back and admire- after all, I pretty much felt like they both were out of my league.

I had been daydreaming for so long that I hadn't realised Yuki had left. I snapped back to reality at the sound of gentle clangs of metal as she slid open the screen door from the kitchen to the living room; carrying with her a large pot of tea, a damp cloth and two roughly cut teacups made out of glazed, pink terracotta. She sat down next to me, poured out a cup of tea for the both of us and pressed the flannel to Ruki's forehead. His eyebrows stirred a little, but there was no other response.

I knew it was selfish, but I _really_ wanted to him to wake up.

* * *

It had begun to rain again. Ai and Uruha were still outside, listening to each other; where they'd been for the last several hours. As the time passed, she had begun to admire him more and more for the person he was; for sticking up for her, for looking after her in the way he did and, most of all, the fact that he'd been a perfect gentleman the entire time that they both had been out there. He had kissed her, yes; but it had been more out of affection and kindness rather than anything else. It had been gentle, warming; even sweet- Ai'd forgotten almost what that was like. She certainly wasn't used to being treated that way.

As she'd slowly turned sober, more and more adamant worries had crossed her mind, which Ru had managed to soothe somehow. Ai was not a shallow person, but she had a shallow job. She had been a model since she was sixteen- it had been the rent payment for her parents who insisted on stupidly high monthly rates for her to live with them. She supposed that since she had no place to go to that it no longer mattered whether she had it or not- after all, she was bound to lose it when they realised she was pregnant. But it had been _hers-_ her own job. Why should she have to give all that up?

Uruha had told her not to worry; that Taeko and Miro were asking Yuki-san if she could stay at their boarding house with them. Although Ai was speechlessly grateful at what they had done for her, especially because they'd only just met, it made her feel useless- even weak. She felt _pitied_- as if her pride had been drained entirely with no means of return- and it frustrated her. Ai had stood pretty much on her own feet for the majority of her life- now, she didn't know where or how she stood anymore.

_I suppose pride has nothing to do with getting a roof over your head,_ she thought, a little bitterly. A sob escaped her throat; the soreness setting in. Uruha heard the sob and immediately held her closer to him.

"Shhh..." he soothed, stroking her hair, "what's wrong?" A rain droplet hit his nose and ran down his cheek; cooling further his freezing skin. He had insisted that Ai take the blanket- it was important that she was warm. He didn't matter.

"S'okay." She replied, giving him a smile. If Ru could act strong, so could she. "I was just thinking about something stupid."

A large raindrop splattered her cheek; running crudely down the side of her face and neck. Uruha smiled back and, without warning, wrapped his arms around her legs and lifted her. She gasped slightly; the night air and rain slicing into her previously covered legs. Uruha shook his head rapidly; an array of water droplets falling from his hair like diamonds.

"Come on," he said, clinging to her tightly, "let's get you inside. You'll get ill out here." He arranged the throw around to cover her as best as he could manage and strode across the garden with her; towards the bright kitchen through the patio doors.

* * *

Kai was asleep- having his first good dream since he couldn't remember. Unaware, he snored softly; he breaths long and regular in rhythm. He was dreaming he was the King of Candyland and was about to conquer the neighbouring land of Nod for being too lazy. It was getting to the good part- he was beating them down with his Lollipop Army.

Then, all of a sudden, when General Lemon went down to Nod's 'Zzz' cannon fire-

"Kai! Wake up! We need to go over the road."

Kai shot awake and groaned loudly; frustrated that he'd never know what would've happened. He looked at the clock; the blinking face telling him that he was up _waaay_ too early for communication or even _movement_ of any kind.

"What?" He cried out to Rei, annoyed, "I'm trying to sleep, man!"

Rei smirked. It was time to play the trump card; the one where he knew that Kai, out of all people, would be understanding.

"Aoi needs the house, Kai." Rei replied, grinning, "He's found himself a woman."

Kai didn't reply- instead, Rei heard an array of frantic scuffling. About ten seconds later, Kai opened the door, panting and fully dressed. His hair was a mess and his socks didn't match, but Rei had to give him points for effort.

"Why didn't you say so?" Kai breathed, stepping out of his room. He brushed himself down and raced down the stairs, Rei following suit. They reached the kitchen in a matter of seconds, where they were greeted with a pleasant surprise. Ru and Ai were there and, amazingly, they both looked happy. Rei looked at Ru, feeling guilty again. How could he have thought that Ru, out of all people, was that kind of guy? He must have been out of his head.

"What's up?" Ru asked them both quizzically, raising an eyebrow. Kai and Rei exchanged glances, unable to stop themselves from breaking out into grins. They gestured with their hands to follow, heading out into the hall.

"Come with," Kai replied gleefully, "we'll explain on the way."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry about the lack of Taeko and Aoi in this chapter- I swear it was necessary though! x) Hope it didn't bore you all too much...**


	13. 12: LoveGame

**A/N: Here's the reason why the last chapter had to be so boring :') I warn you all before reading; it's a graphic chapter, so skip ahead if you're not cool with that (and, as usual; I apologise greatly for my appalling writing skills).**

* * *

Taeko's whole body froze. Her hand slipped away from her cards; falling down beside her like a useless adjunction of flesh. She had only taken the bet because she hadn't expected to lose; after all, she'd been playing so well against him. What had happened? She felt stunned, humiliated, excited- even a little afraid. Excited, because she had a feeling she knew what was going to happen next. Afraid, because she barely knew him- she didn't even know his _name_, for Christ's sake. Had he been holding back this entire time- just for this one moment?

_You don't have to stay, you know_, a little voice in her head whispered. Suddenly, her body found some means of being able to move itself again- her pounding heart generating the blood and will she needed. She got up and turned away, unable to look at him-

A hand on her arm.

Aoi hadn't thought about what he was doing, or whether or not he'd had the right to, either. His body and mind had regressed to something primal- her leaving hadn't been a feasible option. He'd barely even _known_ he was doing it- one minute, he'd been sitting down calmly, seeing her expression change- next minute, he'd jumped over the table. He held her gently; to deter her, but not hard enough to hurt her or seem threatening. He hoped he didn't seem that way, anyway- because right now, he actually needed her.

"Don't go." He whispered; the lower tones of his voice slightly rough from his years of smoking, "I'm sorry."

Taeko's eyes widened- his strong hand still on her arm. She couldn't believe he'd stopped her, but, then again, she couldn't believe he'd apologised, either- he kept making things frustratingly more complicated.

_How can a guy be so cocky and sure one minute_, she thought, amazed, _but then be so charming and sweet the next? _

She turned to face him; his grasp loosening on her arm. She loved his hands; their strength and size balanced out perfectly with his smooth, black fingernails. Her other hand reached up to meet it- his grasp immediately extending to hold her. Taeko closed her eyes; adhering to the sensuality.

"Who are you?" She asked him, meeting his gaze. Both of them seemed to have forgotten the terms of the game altogether; for it no longer mattered. They were in their own world alone together, curious and confused. She traced the figure of his lips with her eyes, a shadow of her vision visible in the reflections of his dark piercing. She was tempted to reach up with her own lips and taste it- only held back by the nature of the question she had asked. She was surprised by her willpower.

Aoi reached up a hand to touch her face. He'd wanted to touch her skin badly, ever since he'd seen its smooth, ivory evenness. Her texture was soft; petal like. It amused him- since he knew that _she_ wasn't frail _or_ soft- but he liked that in a girl.

"Aoi," he replied, smiling, "Aoi Shiroyama."

Taeko smiled back at him, enjoying his touch on her face, until a niggling feeling started in the back of her mind.

_Aoi Shiroyama_, she wondered, as she looked back at him, _where have I heard that name before?_

It was beginning to annoy her; so she concentrated hard, trying to defer the haze of thoughts in her still-drunken mind. She remembered suddenly in shock, almost gasping, of _an_ Aoi she knew. That the guys knew: their friend, their band guitarist, their roommate and Kai's _best_ friend- the only one out of them all that she hadn't yet met.

_It can't be, though_, she thought, realising in relief, _the Aoi that they know- he's shy. This one's far from shy and quiet._

He had trusted her and respected her question- the least that she could do would be to return the favour. She straightened herself; the friction of her nipples aggravating her. She honestly couldn't remember being so aroused in her life. She hated herself for it; that she could be so easily subdued- but she couldn't blame him. After all, it wasn't exactly _his_ fault that he was gorgeous.

"I'm Taeko."

Aoi moved her hair away from her face; his eyes never wavering from hers. He swallowed, nervously, her plump, pink lips set in a beckoning pout. His thoughts started to wander again- about how pretty her mouth would still look; open wide, crying out or full, sucking him. A soft groan escaped his throat as his cock tensed hopelessly at the idea. Aoi's face flooded immediately and he looked away. There was no poker table to hide behind anymore. If she looked down, he thought he'd literally die.

She noticed the change in his expression and felt slightly worried. She let go of him and put her free hand on the back of his neck. He was much taller than her; the top of her head only reaching the height of his nose. Taeko hated being small- she wasn't _too_ short, but it was still annoying. Every male she knew always made fun of her.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable before." Aoi said after a while. It was ironic really, because his pants were actually straining.

Her hand moved and bumped him, causing his features to twitch. She hadn't bumped it hard enough to hurt him, but she had done enough to notice. His blush deepened- he felt ashamed. Aoi honestly didn't think he could meet her eyes.

Taeko said nothing. She moved Aoi's face parallel to hers; his tinted cheekbones making her giggle. She closed her eyes, instincts setting in to abhor her reasoning and hoped beyond hope that she was about to make the right move.

Taeko moved his head down, her hand still on the back of his head and their lips met, gently. She closed her eyes. What happened- what followed- she left for him to decide in the next few moments. She braced herself; awaiting the old lecture of 'feeling bad about taking advantage' (even though she'd made the first move), but it never came.

Aoi paused for a moment, unable to breathe, before he gave into himself. Slowly, his hand on her arm slid to her waist; the other to her hair and, without warning, he returned her gentle caress with fierceness; his returning kiss domineering and powerful. His hand seized her hair hopelessly as his grasp bound her to him; unwavering, strong and incredibly masculine. He felt her grip tighten back accordingly; his tongue slipping into her mouth.

Taeko grunted at his taste; the faintness of rum and tobacco present as he duelled his tongue viciously with her own. It was a taste of which she was unfamiliar, because most boys of whom she was accustomed had minty, 'prepared' breath which, in a sense, always put her off. His musky scent was incredibly sexy to her- she found it enthralling and refreshingly natural. Her hand slid down to his waist, lower and lower until she met his previous fear. Aoi gasped, breaking free of the kiss and moved round to stop her hand.

"Taeko," He breathed, "don't- you don't..."

She slipped her hand inside to meet it, her delicate fingers around his cock, stroking it. Aoi cried out, shaking his head, protesting without meaning. Taeko smiled up at him; her mentality wild and free. Its shape was fascinating to her touch; she could feel how aroused he was, but her limited movement couldn't tell much else. Her finger slipped across the head- touching it tantalisingly.

"How's that?" She whispered; her pouty lips curved in a little smile.

Aoi couldn't take it anymore- he felt like he was going to come in his pants like a kid. He couldn't let that happen. Before Taeko could move any further; he pulled away, grasped her legs and hoisted her up onto the table.

"Aoi, what are you-" Taeko started, shocked; the words stopping in her throat as Aoi's hand slid up her skirt. He slipped two of his fingers inside her fiercely; her slickness opening to him with ease. She let out a cry close to a shriek; his other hand moving to take off her skirt and pants. She blushed, embarrassed, closing her legs.

"Please don't," she whispered, trying to concentrate as he moved his fingers within her, "I don't want you to see there. It's so... ugly."

Aoi was so shocked that he almost laughed. He was so amazed to meet someone else, who, like him, had the same modesty and low self esteem. He couldn't believe that she, being as lovely as she was, thought that a part of her could be- in _any_ way- ugly. His lust groaned to him, his thirst for her urging him to taste. He stopped moving his fingers and paused, his other hand touching her lips. He raised his mouth to her ear, pausing before he spoke.

"You're beautiful," He whispered in reply, her breath releasing in a soft gasp, "_so_ beautiful. I couldn't imagine any part of you that couldn't be- else I wouldn't want to taste you as much as I want to right now."

Taeko froze entirely with disbelief. A tear slid down her cheek- followed by another. Was she doing what she thought she was doing?

_I'm crying_, she realised in horror,_ I'm fucking crying_. She gasped deeply, holding her breath for a moment; trying to make it stop.

Nobody had ever called her beautiful before. She'd gotten eye-candy, pretty, even _smokin'_- but never, ever beautiful. The feeling of happiness at his words welled within her; affecting Taeko more than Aoi could possibly realise. More than she cared to remember- and she felt grateful to him for that. After a moment's pause she nodded tentatively and swallowed; relaxing a little.

Aoi sensed her movement and removed his fingers slowly from her. She felt incomplete; feeling them go, but she knew that it had been a necessity. Her hands met the bottom of his shirt and lifted; Aoi lowering himself meanwhile to make it easier for her. The black number came away without much effort, leaving Taeko staring at his firmly muscled torso; feeling herself hopelessly slicken further. She raised her lips to one of his nipples, biting it gently between her teeth.

The hot skin hardened at her touch and Aoi's breath released in a sigh; her mouth taunting him effortlessly. His body felt like putty with Taeko, except his cock; which was beginning to almost hurt.

_If I don't come soon, I'm going to faint_.

Aoi pulled away from Taeko slowly, her lips releasing with a soft sound and moved his hands to her skirt. He unzipped the back of it, grasping it tightly and pulled her skirt- along with her pants- off; leaving her naked below except for her purple fishnet stockings and converse boots. He wasn't deferred though; he thought he'd leave them on- she looked insatiably hot as she was. He gritted his teeth under his lips; ignoring the pain of his erection and lowered himself down to taste her.

At the first touch of his tongue against her sex, Taeko cried out. She closed her eyes and bit down hard on her lip; her fingernails digging into the edge of the table to stifle herself as best she could. Taeko had never let anyone do that to her before, so she hadn't been used to it. She regretted it now like hell.

Aoi flicked his tongue in and out, caressing her clitoris, his breath releasing in bursts as he enjoyed her almost greedily. Her body twitched and tensed beneath him; her voice crying, shrieking and protesting at every flick or curve his tongue made.

God, he was loving it. Listening to her was amazing: her responses rapid, intense and astoundingly beautiful- like he'd known _she_ would be. He plunged two of his fingers inside her again, up to the knuckles, his other hand grasping her lower back keep her steady.

Taeko shrieked, her head rolling back as she buckled under him. Her eyes met the ceiling as he moved within her- his hand motions rapid and hard; his tongue gentle and alluring. She braced herself more firmly, preparing for what was going to happen. As the minutes passed; closer and closer the precipice came, until she finally cried out; feeling it begin.

"Aoi," She breathed, "stop, _please_-"

By then of course, it was already too late; so Taeko lowered her lips to his neck to smother her inevitable scream. She came hopelessly as he pulled out his fingers; her whole body shivering as her vision blackened- her mind's world exploding. She gasped for air; her teeth digging into his shoulder, which quelled her cries down to murmured whimpers.

Aoi let her go, the pain in his cock close to nail biting. Although he'd fulfilled his desire to taste her; it had only made him more aroused. His shaft arched upwards inside his jeans; confined in a space too uncomfortably small. He groaned softly, closing his eyes.

Then, the pain was gone; his jeans unzipped and his member free. The astounding bliss broke rapidly when he realised what was happening. He opened his eyes and looked down; her hands slipping away.

Taeko flushed hopelessly; her nervousness coming back in a flood. He was huge. She'd expected him to be sizable- who wouldn't- but she hadn't expected him to be _that_ much. Every guy she'd been with almost shrunk in comparison- and, if their actions were leading to where she was fairly sure they were- she was afraid it would hurt. Her eyes travelled up and down it- admiration and dread in her stare all at once- her nipples constantly straining painfully against her shirt.

She noticed Aoi had realised she was staring and she looked away, embarrassed for a second. She didn't understand why she felt bad about staring at it; after what he'd just done for her, it wasn't like his cock was off-limits as far as simply _looking_. She still tingled from what he'd done; the rush in her mind as clear as water.

She forced herself to turn back and look; her allure to him creeping up in an insatiable peak. Without being able to stop herself, she began to slide her hand up and down his cock. He was hard yet soft; his skin a fabulous contradiction.

Aoi groaned loudly, his eyes opening in surprise. Her lips opened and her tongue- pointed, sleek and cat like- began to slide across it; her hand pumping him rhythmatically. His hand crept towards her hair to push her down; to let her take it all in- but, painfully, he managed to stop himself.

_Wait._

Taeko took his entire length with a grunt; her pretty, pink lips encircling him. Aoi grimaced; his nails digging into his palms- so hard that he drew blood. He panted, his eyes rolling to the ceiling as she drew back again and again- his need for release getting worse and worse.

"Taeko, stop!"

It took all of his willpower to pull away, his lungs gasping for air. The lack of her mouth on him was terrible; but it wouldn't have been right if he'd finished. No- he was going to take her, right there on the floor- hard. Partially because he wanted simply to please her; partially because he just _had_ to.

Aoi's eyes met Taeko's, a smile forming on his lips. He kicked off his jeans; his eyes resting on her skull necklace as they had before. Her breasts rose around it; formidable and shapely- as if urging him to touch them.

Taeko flushed, noticing what he'd seen. She reached up through her top to undo her bra at the back in order to help him, her nimble fingers freeing the clasp easily. Aoi grasped her T-shirt, virtually tearing it away; her breasts coming loose. His breath escaped him in an audible sigh as he admired her hopelessly; their large, pretty teardrop forms beautiful to him. He wondered what he'd done to deserve all of this- what he'd done to deserve _Taeko_; as a lover, at least. He pressed his mouth to one of her nipples; slicking his tongue across it. She winced at his touch; the skilled muscle pulsing and flicking in an agonising dance of tingling pleasure.

He removed his mouth after a few moments and lifted her up from the table; taking her down to the floor, on top of him. She sat on the base of his stomach; her sleek sex resting against his skin. She felt his cock behind her- pressing into her skin hungrily- and acknowledged it with a soft gasp.

"Do you need-" Aoi began, but Taeko shook her head. He tipped her gently onto her back and knelt over her, lifting her lower body up with his arms. She took one last look at his member; poised for her and winced, readying herself for the pain. Aoi eased the tip of it into her, slowly and gently; preparing her for what was about to come. She whimpered a little at his presence; her muscles slackening.

He couldn't hold back any longer. He took a deep breath and- without further hesitation- plunged the rest of his shaft into her, hard.

Taeko let out a loud cry as he slid inside her; tears of pain streaming from her eyes. She looked up at the connection they had made- she'd known he wouldn't fit. He pulsed within her; filling her totally, his strong hands still holding her up. Aoi yelled out as she cried; her hot sheath squeezing around him tightly- forcing him to sweat. He grasped her body more firmly and-with a groan- began to thrust.

Taeko's head rolled to face away from him- her hands grasping the floor helplessly at her sides. He started slowly at first; his movements becoming harder and faster at the moments went by. The skull necklace that she was wearing bounced steadily on her chest as he thrusted into her- back and forth, back and forth. It had been so long since she'd been with a man who'd given her what Aoi had- and now, the slick friction of him within her was driving Taeko to the point of madness.

Aoi reached round her back; lifting her on top of him. He kissed her, hard; his tongue fiercely merging with hers in an act that was close to being as sensual as the one they were both involved in. He released the kiss and held her to him; her breasts pushing firmly on the muscles of his torso.

"Ride me." He whispered in her ear, his cheekbones flushing again. He hoped he hadn't put her off with his face flooding constantly- it was humiliating. Saying that though, he still couldn't believe that he was actually having sex with her- or what they'd done- or, even what he'd just _asked_. Aoi braced himself, expecting a slap.

To his vast surprise, she complied with his request without question; moving her body as if it were natural to her. He thrusted back to meet her as she moved against him; their combined, grinding motions enthralling to the brink of ecstasy. The both of them were sticky with sweat; Aoi's grunts and groans becoming yells and Taeko's cries becoming shrieks. They both knew that they couldn't keep going for much longer.

All of a sudden, Taeko let out a scream- and, she began to come. Her tight sheath squeezed and contracted around his cock- her body shuddering with the intense force. Aoi's eyes rolled back at the ludicrous satisfaction- as she milked him, teased him; _made_ him.

"Aoi..." Taeko whimpered; a quiver in her voice. He started to reply, but couldn't; his words dying in his throat.

Then, he came.

A loud yell escaped him beyond his will; the bliss of it incomparable. He grasped Taeko tightly; ramming himself deeper into her and- with a cry- she came again; squeezing him in her hunger. Hot come spurted from his cock inside her; his orgasm vigorous and wonderful to the point of almost being agony.

It lasted for a long time; so long that Aoi thought that he would die if it didn't stop. He held her down on him, embracing her tightly- until they both finished; breathless and gasping- and there was no more.


	14. 13: Breathe

Yuki and I sat in the dimly lit living room sipping our tea in silence for a while. I worried that she thought I was a troublemaker of sorts; dragging her into things that she didn't need to be involved in. I had certainly been a fairly demanding and overly presumptuous niece so far since I'd lived there- I hoped that she didn't believe that I was going to be putting pressure on her like this _all_ the time.

"Aunt-" I started, feeling the need to explain myself further; but Yuki shook her head, giving me a crinkly smile.

"It's alright, child." She replied, taking a sip of tea, "I was young once too, you know. Think I'd have let you stay here if your parents told me you were an adverse troublemaker?"

I raised an eyebrow, to which Yuki laughed pleasantly; but the tension was still present in the air.

"I don't listen to him," Yuki replied, "don't worry. He doesn't see the good in anyone or anything- even his own daughter."

I knew Yuki was referring to my Dad; whom I have, at best, an unhealthy relationship. Michio Kawasaki, my father, is a well-known lawyer with a respectable salary; which he spends on cars, women and himself- leaving me, my brother and my mother to cope virtually on peanuts. We didn't need him particularly, but for some reason, Mum won't divorce him. She says it's because she knows there's good in him somewhere and she hopes to bring it out of him someday. I think it's bullshit; but her mindframe living with him is poor, at best. Sometimes I don't know whether or not she's stable anymore, so I usually keep out of things between them and avoid mentioning anything to set her off. She can be incredibly scary sometimes; which is difficult to believe because she's usually so quiet, meek and mild mannered. I have a scar on my left arm where she attacked me with shards of broken dish when I was thirteen. Sure, she felt bad about it- cried, promised she'd never do it again and said I was 'her baby'- but ever since then, I've never been able to trust her.

My Dad's not a particularly vicious person; just plain selfish. I knew Yuki couldn't stand him- probably why my father talks about her an awful lot and calls her for everything without much of a reason to. Yuki actually _has _a reason to hate him, however; being my mother's sister and occasional emotional 'punching bag'. Mum tells her literally everything. Yuki knows things even I don't know- probably things I don't want to, either. And yet, through all of the cheating and money-blowing, he still considers us his 'family'.

Small wonder really- the way he acted when I told him I wanted to come to Japan for my university education and become a Physicist. He'd wanted his 'little girl' to follow in his footsteps and become a lawyer like him, you know, to carry on the family business; because his 'favourite child' (i.e. my brother Shou) had decided to enter the Navy as an engineer. Dad loves my brother- lets him get away with everything. I'd never asked for anything in my life before then. The only reason I got any money from him to do the course at Tokyo was by agreeing to stay out there until 'I became reasonable'.

This was an extremely 'fair deal' to me. I didn't want to go back. I hadn't heard from anyone except Shou when I landed; telling me that I 'frgot 2 take spice rack to thank aunty'. Charming.

"So who's coming over?" Yuki chirped, setting down her half-empty teacup. I started to reply; when a knock at the door interrupted me. I smiled back at Yuki, getting up to answer it.

Sure enough, it was the others; along with another guy who I assumed was Kai. I smiled at them all- trying hard not to laugh. They were all literally soaked through to the bone. A thunderclap echoed in the background and 'Kai' pushed past me, grunting.

"Aoi better make this work." He muttered, kicking off his boots. It seemed pretty obvious to me that he was the kind of guy who was pretty into dispensing with the formalities and going straight to the core issues. I looked at Rei, who simply shrugged in reply. Guess it was 'Kai's' way of saying hi.

"You're Kai, then?" I asked him, a little tetchily. He turned round, looking sheepish and snickered.

"Sorry!" He exclaimed, biting his lip, "I didn't mean to seem rude or anything- it's just been a really long day, is all. I'm Kai, yeah. Take it you're Miro?"

I nodded, examining him. I wouldn't have said he was 'stunning', like Rei, Ru and Ruk were, but I could see why girls would go for him- he was _adorable_. I knew some girls who went mad over that sort of thing; one eyelash flutter and they'd keel over. I imagined that was how he got women; by looking at them with his fawny brown eyes and pouting his sulky lips. I was intending to be cautious though.

"Yeah, I'm Miro." I replied, trying to seem nonchalant. I jabbed Rei's shoulder playfully; his freezing, wet skin making me wince. Rei grinned, shaking his hair like a wet dog- well, a gorgeous, blonde _wet dog_- but the action was the same.

"Can we come in?" Ru whined from behind, his hand in Aisha's, "It's really cold out here!"

"Sure!" I replied; feeling embarrassed that I'd kept them all out there so long, "Sorry about that." I'd half-expected them all to shove me out of the way; so I'd blocked the doorway unconsciously. I moved to the side; the three of them pushing in with a wet rustling sound. They collapsed against the wall in a heap- their muscles reduced to watery knots.

"Er..." I started, feeling a bit awkward, "Can I get you all drinks?"

"Got one, thanks." Kai replied cheerfully, holding up the glass of strawberry milkshake which he'd helped himself to in the kitchen while I'd not been paying attention. I exchanged glances with Rei again, who gave me an apologetic glance. It looked as if Kai being around was going to make for an interesting night.

* * *

_He's standing in a darkened alley on the rough side of town- where the drunks and whores come out to play of a night. It's because he had to stay back late in detention for forgetting his work and his teacher hadn't believed him when he told her that the only means of getting home from there was walking. He's sixteen- young and foolish- but far from naive. That's why he's nervous. _

_It begins to rain, but he ignores it. He can't stop it, after all- all he's got to protect himself from the downpour are his work books and he's not about to take them out of his bag to shield himself. He just wants to go home. He never believed he'd ever think that in his life, but he actually just wants to go home. _

_A backdoor of a bar opens in front of him about twenty feet away, causing him to jump. He hears swearing, lots of it- insults that are as creative as they are horrible. Something is thrown out- something large. When it hits the ground against the trash cans and cries out, he realises it's human. Threats now; death threats- convincing and horrifying. The door slams shut then with a bang, the smoky sliver of light disappearing. The only light left is from a blinking street-lamp about ten metres away. _

_He's scared now. Very scared. He hates himself for being afraid, but he can't help it. He's human after all. _

_The figure tries to move and cries out. He wants to run, to get away before he gets himself into any trouble, but he can't. He tries to make his legs move, but all his conscience does is propel him forward. One day he knows it's going to get him fucking killed._

_He's over it now. He kneels down on the sodden ground, and turns the figure over. It coughs as he tries; murmurs coming from its mouth. He knows he's hurting it, but he needs to see the damage. He eventually manages to turn it onto its back; its shoulder hitting the moist gravel with a soft thunk. _

_What he does see makes him physically sick. He grunts, falling backwards in shock; his youthful eyes wide and staring. The figure's own young eyes stare back; begging and helpless. He still wants to run, but he can't. _

_The figure is male. __**His**__ age. The base of his nose is ringed red from cocaine- but that's not the most discerning feature about it. _

_The boy's nose has a slash across it that looks about an inch deep; extending across his left cheek, over the bridge of his nose and ending at the right. It looks like someone tried to give the kid a 'Glasgow Smile' and missed. He groans disgustedly- nausea and pity welling in his stomach. _

_The boy looks up at him and gives him the most horrifying, sad smile he's ever seen. Several of his teeth are missing and his face is covered with a thin film of blood. _

_Then the memories end- as they always do- and there is silence._


	15. 14: Cocaine

After the second game of monopoly that night, Aisha yawned, stretching her arms to the ceiling. Dawn was quickly approaching and we were all getting tired; except Ruki, who was annoyingly still unconscious. Ai got up, smoothing out her skirt and turned to Aunt Yuki, who had stayed awake with us. It had been a fun few hours which Kai had made more so by being a horrendously bad loser; sulking like a kid if he went to jail. He wasn't exactly mature; but he was definitely a laugh.

"Mind if I turn in, Yuki-san?" Aisha asked politely, "I really appreciate your help."

Ai had sat down with my Aunt and explained everything, all of us with her for support. As I had expected, Yuki had been extremely accommodating and had given her one of the guest bedrooms until she found her feet. At the news Ai had cried with happiness and hugged Yuki- telling her that she'd do all that she could to contribute for her kindness.

I was extremely happy for Ai, because thankfully things seemed to be looking up for her. She had begun to sober up earlier and had become depressed; feeling that she had risked the baby by being 'incredibly stupid and selfish'. Aisha's breakdown that night couldn't have come at a worse time and she feared that she wouldn't be a sufficient or responsible mother. We all knew that wouldn't necessarily be true; because, after all, humans make mistakes.

I had to admit that Ru had been really supportive and encouraging of her; willing to accept and appreciate any decisions she made. They both weren't together as a couple, though- having decided to 'get to know each other properly' before making any other 'dumb' decisions. I didn't think that was going to last long however; they really seemed to have hit it off. It was a pretty nice sight to see, which, awful as it was, made me feel just a little jealous.

_I wish I could find a guy like that_.

Aisha was gorgeous though- I mean, _really_ gorgeous. She had long, wavy caramel hair that extended down her back, beautiful dark eyelashes and absolutely fabulous legs. I hadn't noticed how pretty she was at first when I was helping her because of the urgency of the situation, but now it radiated out of her. If Ai and Ru got it together, they'd be an amazingly handsome pair. Being around her made me feel incredibly plain in comparison- sure, I wasn't ugly- but I didn't see myself as being exactly _special_. The worst thing about her though was she broke the rule that most pretty people follow- by being incredibly down-to-Earth, funny and actually _nice_; so I couldn't hate her. _Dammit_.

"Sure," Yuki replied, cutting across my thoughts, "I'll take you up there."

Uruha got up to follow, but Yuki shook her head.

"Nuh-uh," she told him, wagging a finger left to right rapidly, "you're staying down here. The girl needs _rest_, for a change. Surely you can survive apart, for one night?"

Uruha immediately felt embarrassed. What had he thought he was doing, acting like her 'knight in shining armour'? They barely knew each other, after all; how did _he_ know that she wanted to be with him? He shrunk back, nodding his head like a little boy being told off by his parents. The two of them left, Ai turning around to flash Ru a smile as the door shut behind them.

Ru's face immediately brightened. He sat back in his chair, sighing happily. Even though he was pretty trepid about his now uncertain future, he knew Ai and him definitely had more of a reason to be together than just for the sake of their kid. Or at least, he _felt_ they did- and, right now, that was enough.

"So... let me get this straight," Kai started, stunned, having only just been told Ru's news, "_you_, Mr. Safe and Sensible, have knocked up a woman?"

Ru nodded, blushing, feeling a mixture of shame and happiness. Kai looked back at him, gobsmacked; unable to believe it.

"How?" he blurted out, his eyes rampant with confusion. Rei grinned, clapping a hand to Kai's shoulder.

"Well, you see, Kai," Rei explained, keeping as straight a face as he could, "when a man and woman love each other very mu-"

"Shut up."

"Hey, you asked."

I giggled helplessly. Kai muttered something under his breath and took a sip from his teacup; the tea it contained cold from sitting around ignored during the fiery Monopoly session. He pulled a face as the liquid hit his tongue, put it down and started playing around with the chain on his wallet.

"Geez though, man," he continued, not looking up, "it's really not like you, at all. I mean, you're usually the nice, 'charming' kind of guy."

Uruha shrugged sheepishly, his dark blonde hair falling over his face in a crescent of shining bangs. He picked up his teacup, smoothing the rough terracotta in his hands. The cups Yuki had chosen to drink tea from hadn't been the prettiest she owned, but they were her favourites because of their unique textures.

"Wish I knew what to say, really." Ru replied, his eyes facing the floor, "I know it's not like me. I'm not gonna let her down on it, but I have to admit that I'm scared shitless."

Ruki grunted, his body tensing. We froze for a moment to see what was happening, but he reverted back to a state of 'relaxation' fairly quickly. I wondered what he was dreaming about- his facial expression had looked pained. I considered waking him up for a couple of seconds before thinking better of it; I didn't want to shock him, after all.

"So, Rei," Kai said, changing the subject, "who's Aoi had the pleasure of 'gracing'?"

Rei and I exchanged glances, grinning. He looked even more gorgeous when he smiled- it wasn't fair. I hated feeling so plain and ordinary in comparison- I mean, what was the point of being around men that you don't actually have a shot at? I guess I could've tried it on with Ruki- because unconscious lads can't say no- but I was too moral and took rather dim views on that sort of behaviour. _Double dammit_.

"That would spoil the surprise." Rei replied, looking as innocent as he could. Kai looked around for a second and immediately twigged with a huge grin.

"Where's Taeko?" he asked me, raising an eyebrow. I really hated being such a crap liar.

"Oh," I replied casually, rolling my eyes away from him, "nowhere special, probably."

Ru's mouth went into an immediate O. He blinked a couple of times, as if trying to let the fact register in his mind. I looked at Rei apologetically, but he didn't seem to mind too much. He smiled back at me, his stunning features understanding and lighthearted.

"No way..." Ru groaned, sliding lower on his chair. Kai, on the other hand, looked as if he'd had an aneurysm. His eyes rolled to the ceiling, one hand grasping the chain on his belt tightly.

"What is wrong with everyone today?" he asked, his eyes wide open, "Mr. Perfect gets _Mrs._ Perfect up the duff- and now Mr. Shy has turned into_ Casanova_ with the extremely cute Kooky Hanabishi? What's wrong with the world??"

"Maybe you're the problem," Rei chimed in, helpfully, "because everyone's picking up all of your charming little flaws."

"Oh, go fuck yourself."

"Oooh, who's _cranky_?"

"I mean it Rei, one of these days-"

"- you'll grow tall enough to make eye contact with a woman?"

I was about to offer Kai ointment for that rather amazing burn, but I too had begun to yawn; the first light of morning beginning to scatter through the closed curtains. I got up, shaking my head to try and stay awake.

"I'm gonna head to bed, guys," I announced, stretching, "awesome meeting you all."

"Night Miro!" Ru and Kai chorused, waving enthusiastically. To my surprise, Rei got up and followed me out, closing the door shut behind us both. I heard a couple of wolf whistles, but laughed them off in my mind. I didn't want to open any thought for wishful thinking.

Rei turned to look at me, to my amazement, red faced and shy.

"Um... Miro..."

_No way. No way. He's not asking you anywhere. It's just about Ruki._ I smiled in response; patiently waiting for his obvious reply, but a part of me had gone extremely nervous nonetheless.

"I know I've, you know, just met you and all," he continued, rubbing the back of his head, "but would you like to come out for a drink next Saturday? You know, just the two of us would be nice, but if it makes you feel w-"

"Sure." I replied, cutting across him in shock and immediately regretted it. I felt my cheeks heating and looked at the floor. I _hated_ coming across as overly keen.

Even so, I was _thrilled_.

Rei chuckled, taking out a red Sharpie from his bag, which he then used to scrawl a number on my arm in spidery, boyish lettering.

"Just in case I don't catch you before work tomorrow." He explained, smiling. I nodded like a concussed fish in reply, feeling stupid again. He kissed me on the cheek; his lips smooth and becoming, waved and stepped back into the living room.

I rubbed my cheek, stunned; unable to believe what had just happened. I stood there in silence for a few moments, facing the door that he'd just gone through; until sweet reality hit me with a glorious _swoosh_. I ran up the stairs in what seemed like two seconds, fell on my futon and screamed into it. I actually felt like _dancing_. As far as days went in a new place anywhere, this one had been my absolute best _ever._

* * *

About half an hour after the others had fallen asleep, Rei was still awake. He was thinking about Miro; pretty, pixie Miro. Although he wasn't as shy as Aoi, he felt proud of himself for taking the risk he had. He'd not been with a 'decent' girl for a while- well, not since the _incident_. As hard as it was going to be, he felt he finally had to move on. He couldn't dwell on it forever.

Suddenly, without warning; the familiar, old feelings began to cycle up. Rei grimaced; balling his hands into fists.

_Don't do it man. Don't give in._

His hand slid towards his pocket unconsciously; his body trying to move him to fuel the craving. He always kept a small stash in there; partially to remind him to stop, partially to challenge him- but also partially for _insurance_. The quality sucked; but that was the point- so he'd only ever take it if he was desperate.

Fifteen minutes later, he was lying in a pool of sweat; his body shaking terribly. He didn't want to take it; he really didn't- it would be the ultimate betrayal. But right now, for whatever reason- stress, alcohol, he didn't know- he_ was_ desperate.

He got up and searched blindly for the bathroom, which he found after a short while by tripping down a couple of stairs and stubbing his toe on the door. The sharp pain rang through him like a bell and he tried extremely hard not to swear. He stepped inside, checked to see if anyone else was around and pulled the light cord; the little room illuminating in a flash.

For the first time in over two years, not counting when he showered, Rei took off his noseband and looked at himself in the mirror. His face was pale and tired-looking, but it was nice to see that it had begun to heal. His scar ran across the middle of his face in a silvery line; a horrible reminder that he hated looking at. He was going to make himself look at it- after all, he was just about to do something that, if he was found out, he'd never be forgiven for. His scar stood as a horrible memory to the life that he'd tried to leave behind.

_Sometimes though, old habits die hard_.

He took out the pouch in his pocket and rolled it out on the toilet seat; the bag it contained falling out with a soft rustling sound. He didn't need much; only a little, just a little to tide him over, just a little-

He poured out a couple of grams from the bag; his nimble fingers using the card he kept in the pouch- an ace of spades- to make two lines. His shame and guilt was terrible, to turn his back on everything, but the cravings were killing him and he literally couldn't help himself.

Reita Suzuki took a deep breath, closed his eyes and snorted.


	16. 15: Made of Scars

_The world is dark around him. His vision is poor at best; his eyes swollen from punches. Blood trickles from an open wound into one of them; stinging it and making his lid stick shut. He grunts inadvertently; a coppery taste in his mouth. The pain is terrible, it really is. He's never been in so much in his life. It's so bad that he feels like dying._

_Nobody knows where he is. Nobody is going to find him. He has no family anymore- anyone to worry about him, or for him to turn to. He knows his face is bleeding steadily; coin-sized drops dripping from his chin to the ground. He can only hope that he bleeds to death quickly; before Murasaki-dono's mind changes and someone else comes to finish the job, or, hurt him more. It's a sad hope, but he clings onto it; his only remaining thread of sanity. He's seen a lot and been through a lot- but God, he's afraid. He knows he's going to die out here; alone in the rain, the Stanley knife wound across his face open for the world to see like a gaping, secondary mouth._

_He closes his eyes; cold droplets of rain hitting his face. He's bruised so badly that each raindrop stings as it strikes his skin. He tries to cry out for help- anything at all- but about all he can manage is a cough. His voice has gone from screaming when they tortured him._

**_Hands on his body. _**

_He cries out now; his voice returning. His throat hurts terribly, but he can't help it. All he can think about is the agony. He feels his shoulder crunch as he is turned and he coughs in response- a small gush of blood expelling from his mouth- because his bones are broken; not all of them, but many. He knows that it's the end now. _

_He opens his eyes. He wants to take a final look at the world before they kill him. After all, that final memory is the one thing that they can't take away._

_A face stares back. A young, boyish face. But it's a face, much to his surprise and relief, he doesn't know. The kid's eyes are full of disgust and horror. He wants to explain to him everything, because even though he has never met him before, he loves him for finding him. He wants to ask the kid why he's out here in this shithole part of town and tell him to run before they come back, but he can't. Bit rich, really- the guy looked about the same age as him. He'd have been a hypocrite. _

_All Reita Suzuki can really do is smile in response, his jaw moving to formulate the action with a cracking sound. He blacks out then- for a while, anyway. _

_There's sirens all around him now. He blinks a couple of times before his eyes adjust to the scene around him. His vision is still limited; but the flashing red and white lights are as clear as anything, for reasons he can't quite understand. The kid's still there at his side, but he's no longer holding him. More hands come instead; hoisting him and wrapping him in blankets. He tries to tell them to stop, but all he can do is scream. Oh God, fuck, Sweet Mother, the **PAIN**-_

_They strap him to a stretcher, his cries smothering when an oxygen mask is placed on his face. He hadn't realised how much his heart had been racing. It pounds in his chest; so hard that he feels it will break out. _

_The hands come away from him and he feels himself moving. He hears the kid insisting that he stays with him as he runs alongside the stretcher. Lord knows why he wants to, but he does. _

_They wheel him for a short while. They are careful, but the alley's ground is uneven and every bump hurts like hell. He breathes heavily into the mask to cope with the pain; his broken fingers curling and uncurling under the blankets he's wrapped in. They hoist him up then; the doors of the ambulance closing behind them. _

_To his relief, the kid is still there beside him. His conscience is slipping now. He knows that the kid is talking to him, but it's hard to tell what he's saying. He stares at his lips, trying to translate them helplessly; the sirens drowning the majority of the sound. Something escapes then -as the sirens die down for a brief, incredible second- which he knows he will never forget. _

_"... I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm going to try. I'm Ruki- Ruki Matsumoto."_

_Someone injects a drug into his arm; with a medical purpose, for a change. He feels his eyes closing and rain on his face._

_Rain...?_

_Rain in an ambulance?_

_

* * *

_

"This one was the **FIRST** one,

_This one had a _**_VICE_**_, _

_This one here, I like to _**_RUB_**_, _

_On _**_DARK_**_ and _**_STORMY_**_ nights, _

_This one was the _**_LAST _**_one,_

_I don't_**_ REMEMBER_**_ how, _

_But I remember _**_BLOOD_**_ and _**_RAIN_**_, _

_And I never saw it _**_COMING_**_ again..." _

Ruki's eyes shot open.

_Why is my phone ringing?_

He groaned, slamming his hand down on his phone to silence the song, which promptly ceased. Ruki rubbed his head; pains shooting through it like bullets. He wished they were bullets- he felt like _shit_. Light was streaming in from a window somewhere and it was beginning to annoy him immensely by increasing the intensity of his already quite magnificent hangover. His tongue felt as if it had an inch thick layer of fuzz over it and was swollen with dehydration. If it wouldn't have been agony to move, he'd have run into the kitchen like an inmate from a 'rehabilitation centre' and stuck his head under the faucet. But it was far too much effort at this point in time and quite frankly he felt like either going back to sleep or dying- whichever was quickest.

Ruki rolled onto his side and faced a room which he didn't know. A dart of panic shot through his chest as he looked around; trying to configure his hazy memories. To his relief, he recognised two figures strewn about the room like sleeping ragdolls which he knew.

Ruki choked on an immediate snicker. They both must have been either completely exhausted, totally wasted or both by the time they got to bed- because they had managed to fall asleep in amazingly interesting positions. Ru had passed out face first with his ass in the air- probably while he'd been trying to take off his pants. His black, grey and purple combats were around his knees and 'Have a Nice Day!' was written on the back of his boxers- a huge smiley face in the middle glaring out at him. Kai, on the other hand, had fallen asleep virtually _upside down;_ his legs were up on an armchair, as if he'd fallen off backwards during the night and not bothered to right himself. A string of drool slivered at the corner of Kai's mouth as he snored.

_Lovely..._ Ruki thought, unimpressed. Ru whimpered for a second, farted and sighed, happily. Ruki sighed back in response, stretching his stiff back. He felt incredibly tempted to throw the irritatingly placed monopoly 'boot' on the coffee table in front of him at Ru's even more irritatingly placed 'target', but he was too lazy. Instead, he lay back on the sofa and tried to sieve through the memories in his sore mind. He remembered two girls- one of them being Taeko. The other he hadn't met before. Ruki closed his eyes, focussing harder.

_Miro..._ he remembered, _she told you her name was Miro. You thought she suited 'Tink'._

He recalled her as a vision of green; with flowing, long hair and a lovely smile- but at the moment he was slow to recollect at best. Ruki remembered that she'd been pretty; nymphlike even- and also knew she'd helped him somehow. He wished he could remember how; but the last thing he could currently recall was the world fading after he took a huge shot of bitter tequila.

_Is this where she lives?_ Ruki wondered, the idea striking him for a happy second; before he became downtrodden because of its senselessness. It wouldn't have made sense, though- if this was Miro's house, why on Earth would the others be with him?

_Fuck..._ he thought, over-reacting in his mind for a stupid second, _have we been kidnapped??_

Kai grunted; his legs falling off the chair and flopping beside him with a thud, assuming the foetal position. Ruki laughed at himself- realising how dumb his thoughts were. There was probably a good reason for everything. His lack of memory was frustrating, though; especially because it was a rare thing to happen to him-

He stopped for a second, hearing noises, which he then realised were footsteps in the hallway (or what he _thought_ was the hallway, anyway) and the repetitious, annoying sound of dripping water. Ruki felt as if every droplet was physically hitting him- his hangover was _that_ bad. Ruki gathered himself into a defensive position, grabbed the remote and faced the door; his knees by his nose. God only knew what he was going to do against a potential attacker with a fucking _remote_- maybe he was still drunk.

"Who's there?" He whispered, huskily. The door swung open revealing Reita, much to Ruki's relief, rubbing his wet hair dry with a towel; another around his waist. He looked up at Ruki, looking confused.

"You alright there, man?" Rei asked quizzically. Even though he'd just showered, his noseband still stayed firmly in place. Out of all of the people Rei hung around with, Ruki knew that he was the only one who actually knew what was under it. It wouldn't have mattered if he'd told the others, really; they would never have believed him. His eyes were ringed red and his face looked pink under it.

"I'm fine, thanks." He replied, an eyebrow raised, "How about you? You look pretty tired."

"Oh-" Rei replied, not meeting his eyes, "yeah, I'm okay. What time is it?"

_Bit funny he's so intent on changing the subject_, Ruki thought, before reasserting himself.

_Stop it. You need to trust him._

Ruki clicked a button on his phone; the screen flashing into view. He groaned audibly when he saw the time, rolled his eyes and fell backwards.

"Seven thirty." he replied, distaste in his voice, "Damned alarm woke me up. How come you're up so early?"

Rei's eyes widened. Ruki blinked, sharp pains searing through his head again. When he opened them, Rei was struggling into his jeans in a hurry. Ruki watched him mindlessly for a couple of minutes before realising what he was doing, sat up again and swung his legs round; his size eleven feet touching the floor.

"Rei-" he started, confused, "_why_ are you getting dressed?"

Rei looked at him as if he didn't know who he was- half out of his jeans.

"Ruk!" he exclaimed, eyes panicked, "We have to be in work in half an hour!!!"

_Work?_

He realised in a flash what day it was. Him, Rei and Aoi all worked weekends at Denny's Bar and Grill downtown as waiters- and they had the single worst boss in the entire world. She was this fat, wealthy American woman called Frieda Pratt who, unfortunately for them, spoke fluent Japanese and treated them like shit. If they dropped anything, even if it wasn't their fault- reduced pay. If she overheard them making a comment about something nasty she'd said- reduced pay. If they came in late- a _fifteen_ minute lecture _and_ reduced pay.

_That's why my alarm went off._

"Shit!"

* * *

**A/N: The song Ruki wakes up to is : 'Made of Scars' by Stone Sour. It's an English song, but I thought it fit pretty well with the feelings present in the text (plus I love Stone Sour xD). As always, I'm open to opinions and feedback, so reviews are loved lots :)**


	17. 16: Pretty, Handsome, Awkward

**A/N: Slight sex scene ahead, done for the joys of comedy x) **

* * *

As it turned out, even though they'd sped out of the door at near enough light speed, just caught the bus and one out of the two of them had not bothered showering; Ruki and Rei still ended up five minutes late. Sure, it was only five minutes; but Frieda still took it as a major insult and when the both of them arrived out of breath at Denny's backdoor entrance, she let them know it.

"What the fuck?" she yelled, hands on her fat hips. She wore an astoundingly hideous lime green suit- with front pockets on its equally horrible accompanying A-line skirt- and she had fresh chocolate stains down her enormous double-breasted bosom. Ruki and Rei groaned loudly, clinging onto the doorframe for balance whilst trying very hard not to look at them.

"Sorry we're late, Mrs Pratt." They both chanted begrudgingly. Despite living in Japan, Frieda loathed being called Pratt-san. Aoi had unfortunately made that mistake when he first met her and it had landed him a horrendous first week full of 'bathroom maintenance', or, put more bluntly, a 'toilet guy' who stands there basically doing fuck all except for shaming people into giving him tips. Aoi told Ruki about his escapades whilst drunk at some party ages ago (sworn to secrecy, of course) and they'd turned out to be as hilarious as they were disturbing; one such example being when some drunk gay guy walked in, grabbed his nads and stuck his tongue down his throat. Although bi, Aoi had politely declined; but he admitted complimenting the guy on his 'technique' to make him feel better (Ruki, who had also been drunk at the time, had sensibly decided not to inquire into what 'technique' Aoi had been referring to and had rapidly changed the subject). Being furious at Frieda (but, unfortunately also a really nice guy), Aoi had suggested 'Pratt-san' for a name to refer to their aforementioned 'tyrant' when they were pissed off at her; but of course, Rei and Ruki had laughed at him. Frieda's nickname, coined the day after, was 'Pratt-ass' and had stuck like glue between the three of them.

"Good!" She shouted, angrily, "Now get your asses going or I'll cut your pay for today in half!"

The two of them hurriedly scurried off to their lockers in the hallway by the kitchen. Ruki felt around for his key; groaning when he realised he'd forgotten it, but Rei had been organised. He smiled, revealing a silver key which he promptly used to open Ruki's locker. It fell open with a rusty squeal; his work uniform toppling out along with a stack of Playboys and a brown, half-eaten apple. Rei picked up one of the magazines, flicked through it and smirked.

"Think I'll keep this as a token of thanks on your part." He said, rolling up the mag. Rei opened his own locker with the key, shoved it inside and pulled out his work clothes- heavily creased with lack of care. Their uniform consisted of a white, long-sleeved shirt, black pants and a black apron with Denny's' logo in the corner which tended to stain during the day's work.

"Where'd you get that key?" Ruki asked, bewildered. Rei tutted and gestured towards Frieda's empty office with a motion of his head.

"Irresponsibility and a cheap lock." He replied, grinning, "Master key- opens all the lockers in this dump. She's still looking for it because she's too cheap to fork out for a new one. Want it? I made a copy in case I lost the original."

Ruki shrugged, his currently unruly red hair flopping around his ears, "Sure. If Pratt-ass finds out, she'll kill you though."

Rei threw him the key and started to change. Ruki looked away; suddenly feeling like something was missing somehow. He shoved the mags back in his locker, chucked out the apple after eyeing it disgustedly and started taking off his pants.

"Yo, Ruk-" Rei started, a puzzled tone in his voice, "is it just me, or is it really quiet today?"

Ruki turned round to face him; half out of his trousers. Rei was standing in his boxers and he had a perplexed look. With a laugh, Ruki abruptly understood why.

"Reckon Aoi had a good night last night then?" He asked, kicking off his trousers and struggling into his uncomfortable black polyester work slacks. Rei sniggered and sprayed on his deodorant, realising what was different.

"You gonna tell him he's late for work, or should I?"

"Gimme that, and I'll do it." Ruki replied, pointing at the can of Lynx Twist. Rei rolled his eyes, threw it to him and started buttoning up his work shirt. Ruki pulled off his T-shirt and sprayed his pits; the cold of the scent on his skin making him shiver. When he'd finished changing, he got out his phone from within his heap of clothes on the floor and called Aoi.

* * *

When Taeko woke up, a couple of things became apparent quickly. Firstly, her head was pounding like hell with a tequila-fuelled headache. Secondly, she was completely naked except for her stockings and boots. And thirdly, due to the broad, muscled arms around her and soft breathing in her ear, she knew she wasn't alone. Her memories, however, unlike Ruki's, were as clear as crystal.

_Fuck..._ she thought, closing her eyes, _what the hell have I done?_

Taeko turned round to face Aoi, who was sleeping beside her and felt scared. He was charming, gorgeous and the sex had been mind blowing, but she felt scared all the same. She'd been pretty damn forward the previous night and she knew that the power he had- even though he'd chosen not to abuse it, thankfully- had shocked the _hell_ out of her.

'_You fucking whore!' _

_Punches, lots of them, how they hurt-_

She shook herself out of it and looked him over, sighing. His breath whistled gently through his lips as he slept; his graceful, muscular frame entwined around her own. He hadn't become any less attractive during the night- not that she had expected him to, of course. His expression was peaceful, benevolent and, despite what they'd gotten up to earlier, almost innocent.

_Beautiful. He called you beautiful._

Although Aoi had said that to Taeko, she found herself doubting his words. She wondered if he had really meant it, or if he'd just been drunk and looking for a screw. Taeko found it hard to trust anyone these days, but men especially. She supposed that, if that were the case; their reasons for fucking had been the same, so how could she judge him?

Saying that though, she knew she wasn't fully convinced; but hated admitting it regardless. Taeko had done something that was very unlike her (especially at the moment) and, for some strange reason; she felt it had been mutual. She drew back a strand of black hair which lay across his cheek behind his ear so that she could see more of his face. Taeko found herself wanting to open up so much to him- a guy who she knew but barely knew at the same time- and, because of that, she felt exceptionally vulnerable. Taeko, despite appearances, had learned very young and very quickly to be tough and never to trust anyone; which had led to a lot of pretty broken relationships with guys. She had no doubt in her mind that Aoi would be any different, but she couldn't stop herself from liking him and it was pissing her off.

His eyes opened to meet hers and he smiled at her. Despite her fear, Taeko couldn't help smiling back. His arm slid down to her slender waist and he caressed the skin of her stomach with his thumb, his gaze never wandering from hers.

"Hey there." He whispered, his voice sleep-ridden and huskily sexy.

"Hey."

Aoi thought Taeko was even more pretty now; ruffled and a little grouchy looking from the lack of sleep they'd both had. To be fair, it had been time well spent- he'd had her four times that night, after all. He still hurt down there from the action he'd gotten, if you could call it that, anyway. Aoi couldn't remember ever having as much sex as he'd had with Taeko in one night- or, well, _ever _for that matter. Better still, they'd been amazingly compatible, considering Aoi was about as sexually inactive as a tortoise and they'd only just met. He couldn't help feeling bad about their encounter though- like he'd taken advantage of her, because considering how he'd acted the previous evening around her, it wouldn't have surprised him if she thought he was a bit of a whore. He wished he'd have had the strength to have held back, but it had been_ impossible_. He was finding it extremely difficult, as bad as it was of him at this point in time, to stop himself from flipping her round and spooning her where they lay right now, for God's sake. Unfortunately however, his liking of her coupled with his now intense shyness was stopping him.

Instead, Aoi kissed Taeko gently- his hand smoothing up her back to rest on her shoulder. However, Taeko had other ideas. When they finished, gasping a little from the intensity, she started to slide down his chest with a glint in her doe-like eyes. After all, if they weren't going to see each other after this, she thought she might as well enjoy herself. Aoi flushed intensely, wishing he could cover his face.

"Taeko," He breathed, realising what she was about to do, "don't-"

Aoi's earlier thoughts coupled with the annoying, typical male syndrome of 'morning wood' had already made him hard- much to his intense embarrassment- but Taeko saw it as nothing more than an opportunity. Aoi's breath seized and released in gasps as she began sucking him almost casually; her skilled mouth drawing over him with gradually increasing speed. He was worried he'd wake the others with the noise he was making, but for some reason, they didn't seem to be around- or at least, he thought they weren't, considering they hadn't been interrupted the previous night.

At that incredibly inappropriate time, his phone started to ring. Aoi grunted; his eyes rolling to the ceiling as his building orgasm began to cease from the annoying distraction. Taeko looked up and gave him an understanding look, so he picked up his phone from his jeans on the chair behind him; trying to concentrate while Taeko kept going.

"H-hello?"

"Aoi?" It was Ruki. "Where the fuck _are_ you, man?"

Aoi's eyes closed, his concentration wavering intensely. God, it felt so good. He groaned, too shy to push her head down; the blush still severe on his cheeks.

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing?" Ruki asked, sniggering.

_Shit_, Aoi thought, _he knows_.

"N-nothing." He lied, fighting hard to breathe, "What's up?"

"Oh,_ I'm_ fine," Ruki replied casually, "but you won't be when Frieda gets a hold of you."

Aoi's phone slid from his hand. Taeko looked up at him, stopping when she saw his expression.

"You okay?"

Aoi shook his head slowly; his face full of dread. He got up and grabbed his jeans, biting down hard on his lip to stop himself from screaming. It took a tremendous amount of effort for him to do so and he felt like crying with frustration like an idiot.

"Was it something I said?" She asked eventually after a couple of minutes, an annoying note of hurt in her voice which she hoped he hadn't heard. Aoi stopped, smiled at her and kissed her on the cheek.

"No, it's not you." He explained, touching her chin, "Not at all. I forgot I had work today and I have a really horrible boss- so unfortunately, I have to head for there."

"Oh," Taeko replied, her heart sinking a little, "okay."

Aoi saw her downtrodden expression and felt absolutely awful. He knew exactly how it looked- but he couldn't help it. He seriously felt like _killing_ Ruki for reminding him. He kissed her gently on the cheek, but she wasn't looking at him anymore.

"I'm so sorry about having to run off like this," Aoi murmured, "what you must think of me-"

"No, no," Taeko laughed, cutting him off, "It's honestly fine, really. It's not your fault."

Aoi finished getting dressed, Taeko- much to his irritation- joining him. He wanted to look at her nude for a bit longer, but then again he supposed that going into work with an erection would have been a pretty stupid idea.

"Hand me your phone." Aoi said to her, holding out his hand. She complied, an eyebrow raised. Aoi grinned, looking as casual as he could and punched his number into it.

"It'd be really great if I could see you again."

Aoi handed it back to her and pulled on his coat. Taeko smiled back, shrugging. If he wanted her, she was gonna let him make an effort for it- and, by that, she was going to let him arrange things for a while if he was willing.

"Text me," he replied, touching his forehead to hers, "because I'd love to take you out for that drink."

"I thought I lost the bet?"

"Fuck it. I don't care."

They left the house together, kissed again and went about their separate ways- for now.


	18. 17: One Week

_He doesn't know how long he's been out for. As he sleeps, his mind is full of hazy dreams, blackness and on more than one occasion; horrible, horrible nightmares. On those occasions, he hears screaming- horrible, pig-like squeals which he isn't sure are coming from some twisted hallucination he's having or are vomited from his own lungs. He feels no more physical pain, but the mental damage he has received is second to none. _

* * *

_Ruki Matsumoto cannot leave his side for reasons he's not sure. His parents don't really miss him- they spend most of their time drunk, fighting with or fucking one another. They make him sick and he can't stand being around them. He's an only child and doesn't know the rest of his family, so all he's basically got to hold on to is this kid, lying unconscious with tube after tube stuck in him. Ruki might have left if the kid's family came along, but none have so far, so he passes himself off as his brother. He's not sure if they believe him, but he's got what they need; so they can't really question him. _

_The doctors find the kid's wallet in his back pocket. In it, they find a name: Reita Suzuki. They also find out pretty quickly that because of the nature of the injures he's received, coupled with his overuse or over**dose** of several varieties of extremely potent narcotics; he needs a lot of blood. This is exceptionally unfortunate, they tell Ruki, because there are patients in worse conditions than Reita's and as their current blood supplies are low; they have to prioritise._

_Ruki thinks this is bullshit and asks why; thinking it's because Reita's condition involves drugs. The doctor turns round and looks at him. His eyes are filled with intense sadness, but he tries to establish as professional a relationship as he can between the both of them. He explains to Ruki that there was a fire in an apartment building a couple of blocks away from where Ruki found the aforementioned patient and that there's kids out there- about a dozen of them, at least- with third-degree burns covering the vast majority of their bodies._

_Ruki feels like shit now for asking, so he volunteers immediately to give blood. After all, he doesn't need all of it and with the disgraceful 'generosities' of the general citizens in the town they live in, it's pretty fucking certain the kid will die if he doesn't. And if he can save the lives of some other kids along the way, all the better._

_He's lying in a bed being drained right now; resembling Reita beside him with the number of tubes coming out of his body. He's light-headed with all of the red he's given and they want to stop, but he tells them to keep going until they've got all they need. Doctors come and go; giving him looks that are both worried and appreciative at the same time, but they usually say nothing. The nurses- on the other hand- never stop with their questions. _

"_Are you the patient's brother?"_

"_How much have you given? Are you feeling alright?"_

"_Are your parents coming to pick you up?"_

_He answers minimally; enough to satisfy them but in a way so that they will leave him alone, for a while at least. He keeps producing as much as he can until he finally faints and they refuse to let him give anything else until he eats something, has a drink and gets some sleep for a while. He obeys them unwillingly and chokes down the driest piece of toast he's ever had in his life; coupled with a glass of sterilised water with even less flavour. He's always hated hospitals- he hates the smell, he hates the colours they always use- but most of all, he can't stand the food._

_Reita screams next to him; a bloodcurdling cry that, to this day, Ruki can never compare. It's not even a scream of pain; it's one of anguish and terror. The screams carry on for a good five minutes as shivers carry up and down Ruki's spine- until eventually the kid is sedated-and there is silence._

* * *

Fresher's week, on the most part, was a complete and total blur. Five straight nights; all of them spent spastically drunk. It passed by incredibly quickly without too many 'complications'; Yuki thankfully surviving through the interrupted nights of sleep me and Taeko gave her. I felt incredibly grateful for Yuki's tolerance of everything we'd put her through lately; but she never complained and told us off if we apologised, taking on the 'you only live once' perspective.

As it turned out, all of the gamer lads from the guys' party were all in Physics, with me. They seemed fairly enthusiastic about this for some reason and promised to teach me 'all the moves' on Halo 3. I tried very hard to reciprocate, but it was fairly difficult as I've never been a fan those kind of games- I've always been on the Kingdom Hearts, Devil May Cry and Spyro side of things. Though, to be honest, it sounded like an innuendo more than an invitation to a games session, now I think back on it. The gamer guys called themselves the 'TOEI Club'- 'TOEI' being an acronym of their combined nicknames; Taka-kun (Takashi), Oda-kun (Kenji), Endo-kun (Keita) and Inu-kun (Mimura)- and also due to that fact that Dragonball Z practically got them hard. Saying that though, they were pretty nice guys and Taeko and me spent a lot of time hanging around with them that week (or what I can remember of it, anyway)- because Ru, Rei, Ruki, Kai and Aoi were busy practicing, apparently.

I found this annoying fact out when I texted Rei; asking him if they wanted to come out with us on the Monday of that week. The nice thing was though that he'd actually seemed gutted about it. He apologised about three times and explained with a 'lol' that their band didn't even have a _name_ yet- or, at least one they could agree on- Aoi wanted them to be called 'Skulls and Lacerations', Uruha wanted 'Cyanide Wine' and Kai wanted 'Itsutsu Kingyo' ('The Five Goldfish') for some reason; apparently reminiscent of his childhood years at fairgrounds. So, when they weren't playing; they were generally scuffling over that or other things- which Rei wasn't bothered about and Ruki decided to stay out of. He was still up for meeting on the Saturday of that week though- which I was really looking forward to for the obvious reasons- and I thereby felt extremely happy that he'd remembered.

Taeko, unfortunately, had been fairly quiet about things between her and Aoi and kept strongly insisting that nothing had happened. I thought this was a load of bollocks, so I couldn't help but keep pressing her about it. As it turned out, we both got on really well and had jam sessions together three times that week; both alone and with Yuki and Ai watching. My sore fingers from the previous weekend had healed surprisingly quickly, so I had decided to use that to my full advantage.

Ai, on the other hand, had decided against going out fairly sensibly. Even so, I felt terrible for her- with both me and Taeko out as often as we were that week. On the most part, she was happy- but sometimes, with a catalyst, like if Ru forgot to call her or something- she'd suddenly go silent and sit alone in her room; hunched on her futon like L from Death Note. Ru, like Rei, had promised the others that this week was dedicated to practice; which he admitted he'd never have promised to had he realised what had happened to Ai, or known that it was Fresher's week. So he, like the others- because Kai was an absolute and total complainer- were confined to their living room together playing guitar, drums, singing and drinking beer for the week. To Ru's credit, however; he did call her every day and they'd arranged to meet up on the same Saturday that me and Rei were seeing each other to go somewhere to talk things over- sober, this time.

Sadly for Ai, her parents had wasted precious little time kicking her out. As soon as she told them where she was staying; they came over the next day and dropped off all of her things- and when I say 'all', I literally mean _everything_- there were even some dusty games in the pile of stuff they left which looked as if they hadn't been played in years. They ignored their daughter's sobs, begs and pleas for forgiveness and simply proclaimed that she'd 'gone against God' and was no longer worthy of being a member of their family. Ai's parents, unusual for the majority of Japanese, were devout Catholics and took the Bible both as liberally and as literally as you can get; which I found appalling. The mouthful of abuse from Yuki when she saw them and what they'd done to Ai was as heartfelt as it was powerful and, by the end of it; it was an extremely small wonder that Ai's parents hadn't filed charges. But it _had_ been incredibly satisfying to see their faces when she stood up to them, all the same. Ai was as silent as you could get for the rest of that day, excluding when Ru called her in the early evening.

So- in what seemed like no time at all, Saturday came along- and the fun began.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Edit: Changed Kai's name in chapter 7 to what it should be- my vast and utter apologies :') **

**For those of you that aren't sure what Fresher's week is; it's basically a week where the students get to know each other/ the students' union and get incredibly drunk- so you can imagine how annoyed the GazettE are for having to miss it :p**

**I know that Reita and Ruki in reality (well, depending on what fansite you go on, anyway) have different blood types; but they're meant to have kind of a 'bond' thing going on, so I hope nobody gets mad at me for this. If it really bothers anyone, please speak out :)**

**As you might have all guessed, the GazettE aren't famous or fully established yet- you'll have to just trust me when I say that this point's _extremely_ significant and things will change later XD**


	19. 18: Vogue

Aisha sat on the window-ledge in her room, listening to the sound of the summer rain. A stream of droplets kept falling from the gutter by her window with a rhythmatic _pat-pat-pat_ and she made a tune out of it by rapping her knuckles against the frame subconsciously. When Ai was nervous or impatient about something, it was an irritating habit of hers that annoyed everyone. She felt she seemed to be doing that an awful lot lately. The time was drawing near that she had to face her fears- and, like all humans, she was afraid to. Every click, be it loud or soft from the large overhanging quartz clock across the room, made her jump a little inside and dread the next.

After a while, she got up and went to lie down on the tatami mats on the floor. She didn't really have a good reason to (Yuki-san had given her a perfectly comfortable futon), but it was something she sometimes did when she wanted to think.

Ai closed her eyes and turned to her side; the light in the room dimming visibly with the upcoming night. She thought she ought to start unpacking everything her parents had left for her here, but she couldn't bring herself to move. She felt a sensation of raw warmth in the back of her throat to her dismay and her eyes began to water.

Slowly but surely, she began to cry. She buried her face in her hands to muffle the sobs, her face dampening exponentially. The last thing she needed, considering everyone had been so kind to her, was any of the others coming up to check on her. After all, the mess she was in was mostly her own fault and she thought she ought to face her current feelings alone. It certainly hadn't been the first time she'd cried that week- and she highly doubted; if her luck was anything to go by, that it would be the last.

In an hour, she was seeing Uruha. He had called her every day and texted her all the time to check up on her, but she couldn't have been more afraid of seeing him than if she were waiting to be executed. Despite her appearance, Aisha Ai was an uncommonly gentle girl who was more innocent than most people realised. She'd spent most of her teen years in a girls' boarding school to uphold her parents' wishes of remaining 'pure and true to the Lord' in Kyoto before moving to Tokyo for university. It had been a Catholic convent school called 'Sisters of the Sacred Heart'; a name which made the place sound far prettier and happier a place than it really was. In reality, it was a washed out grey building with a church at the end and contained nuns that hit the students illegally as well as girls so horribly bitchy that it was untrue. Their uniforms consisted of straw hats, burgundy blazers with the school logo (a gold cross with a heart in the middle), grey pinafores, white shirts and red cravats; a getup which Ai thought looked like a crossover between 'The Sound of Music' and 'Tom Sawyer'.

Nonetheless, because Ai was afraid of defying her parents, she'd tolerated it constantly. She tolerated the bullying that she suffered because she refused to smoke and roll up her skirts. She tolerated the nuns punishing her for reaching adolescence earlier than they felt 'she should have' with rulers and sticks. She even tolerated the endless hours of prayer that her parents put her through, every day- until that one Friday in early November where everything changed.

Ai had been sixteen at the time and in her second senior year. She recalled that she'd been excited about that because it meant that she only had a year left in that fucking place. Ai also remembered with a snort that when she'd thought those words, she'd put a hand to her mouth as if she'd said them out loud. She could almost imagine how much they would beat her if she'd actually _sworn_- or worse. What if they called Mummy and Daddy? The thought had made her shiver.

She remembered that the bell had sounded for the end of the day and the students had been extremely happy to get out. Although it had been November, Kyoto had been struck by a heatwave during the autumn season and the classrooms of the convent had been chokingly warm and sticky throughout the week- so bad, in fact, that many students had feigned illness so that they could go back to their dorms and shower away the heat. Unfortunately, Ai was not allowed to leave and had detention, as usual. She never really did anything wrong, but one of the nuns- whose voice she had heard in her nightmares for most of her school life- had it out for her. Her name was Sister Watanabe (privately and hatefully named 'Sister Smasher' by Ai) and for some reason, she hated and despised Aisha. Believe it or not, the girls in the school got away with murder an awful lot because, most of the time, the nuns weren't actually strict with them and treated them with 'kind and loving care'. There were a few students, however- Ai being one of them, of course- who they tended to abuse for reasons she didn't know. They all resembled her, however; quiet, tall girls who worked hard and didn't really put a toe out of line on purpose. Some of the girls- no, most of them- were also extremely pretty, but, like Ai; their self esteems had been completely shattered out of them from the abuse they received on a regular basis.

Sister Smasher was a lanky, irritable woman with a lemon pucker, a huge nose and a load of greasy black hair which she always pulled to the top of her head in a tight bun; sometimes so tight that she had an expression of constant surprise, like a cod. She always wore her nun's uniform in full, even if the weather was warm, like that day, for instance and carried a Bible under one arm and some blunt object in the other on occasions when she was alone with her victims. On Ai's first day there, Smasher had hit her in the back of the head with a wooden crucifix so hard that her head had struck her desk. She had called her parents that night on the school's only payphone begging them to let her come home, but they had laughed, called her a sinful liar and hung up.

_If someone was going to describe her to someone else_, Ai thought, a thunderclap overhead echoing around the room, _they'd make her sound old_.

In reality, though; Sister Smasher couldn't have been any older than her mid twenties, which Ai believed but couldn't at the same time. She couldn't believe that someone who was so young and dedicated to God could be so evil- or at least behave like it, anyway- but at the same time, Smasher's face had no wrinkles and when she lowered her voice, there was a youngish lisp to it. However, this was rare- instead, she would often scream in Ai's ear; her pursed lips spraying spit along with the noise. She did this regularly and often when she was bored; once so loudly that Ai's eardrum had bled for the good part of two days, just for forgetting to bring an eraser. Ai had only survived the sessions by chanting to herself later that Sister Smasher's actions were 'for her own good', but it only served to shatter her self-esteem more by making Ai believe, if only for a little while, that she really _was_ 'bad'.

Aisha was expecting to be screamed at for some reason of course, so subsequently she'd walked out of her class with a wince. She tried to take as long as she could when she walked across the grounds to the detention room; aptly placed in the church section of the school so that God could watch over the 'wrongdoers' being punished 'for their sins'. Although the church itself was beautiful, much unlike the rest of the school, it was the part which Ai despised the most; it being a constant reminder and 'tribute' to the pain and long hours she'd spent there. She hated it as much as she hated Smasher, which she thought was a fair achievement.

The hinges made their familiar squeal as she pushed the heavy oak doors aside. Despite all of the money that went into the place because of the ludicrous sums of money they charged for the students to attend, none of the school was particularly well kept and the church itself was no exception. There was dust everywhere, Bibles that were full of mistakes and an organ which Ai was sure had things living in it.

To her surprise, however; nobody was there. She paced up and down the aisles, expecting to see Smasher sitting down and leering at her; as she had so readily volunteered to 'look after' Ai while she was being punished. But the church was completely empty, to her vast relief. She thought that maybe Smasher had gotten preoccupied with something, but she sat down for a while to wait, just to make sure.

Ten minutes in, Ai had grown bored. She leaned back on the pew, pushing on the arm and playing with the long ribbons on her hat. She knew she shouldn't have been and a moment later, she found out why; the unwavering silence suddenly breaking with a loud, dry snap. Her veins filled with dread when she realised what she'd done; the curled arm of the pew resting in her hand. She mindlessly touched the broken edge, as if to register what had happened. A sharp pain shot across her index which made her recoil back to reality. Beads of fresh blood formed on the fingertip; a long splinter caught under her skin.

Ai began to panic. She grasped the pew tightly and began to sweat profusely; her chest heaving in and out as she fought to keep her breathing steady. She knew that if they found out what she had done, they'd kill her. The only thing that Ai was looking forward to was her completion of her senior years and passage into university, the _only_ thing. Smasher had been looking for an excuse to get rid of her for ages; all of the nuns had. If they found out about what had happened, they'd accuse her of vandalism, blasphemy- everything they could. Ai would be expelled; all of her university prospects immediately disappearing because of a single accident.

_Calm down_, she remembered thinking, _**think**_. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing down as best she could while sieving through the thoughts in her mind. Where could she find glue?

_The supply room_.

Ai didn't hesitate- she ran. She bounded as fast as she could across the hall; kicking up dust with her black patent leather Mary Janes; coating them with an ugly grey layer. She reached the chipped, wooden door in a matter of seconds and pulled it open.

"Oh fuck, oh God-"

The memory of what she saw still made her sick. She clutched her belly containing her growing child, as if to shield it from her ugly reflection and curled up into a mimicking, foetal ball.

Ai remembered staggering backwards and falling hard on her ass. The fall had given her a huge bruise which she'd feel in agony later on, but at that moment, she was numb with shock. She traced the scene with her eyes hopelessly, trying not to stare but being unable to help it. It burned into her mind, in all of its crudeness and hypocrisy. Ai tried to speak, but she couldn't.

The caricatures of Smasher and the school priest, Nanahara-dono stared back at her dumbfoundedly, as ridiculous as the scene was disgusting. They looked so surprised that Ai almost laughed; not out of humour, but tension and fright. She remembered feeling nauseous and she covered her mouth, fighting not to puke. Nanahara-dono's pants were round his ankles and Smasher's legs were wrapped around him. They'd frozen as soon as she'd opened the door, but she'd known what they'd been doing. She didn't know what repulsed her most- the fact that Nanahara-dono must have been thirty years Smasher's senior, or the disgraceful insincerity to their so-called faith.

_That moment_, she remembered, _had been the moment_.

Ai would then send the Catholic Church of Japan a letter explaining what had happened; seeing Smasher being revealed for everything that she was and the school's reputation being destroyed. She would later stand up to her parents for the first time and be homeschooled. They complied on the condition she found a job; which she did and they hated, but she continued anyway. Later still, she would finish her homeschooling and pass her entrance exams with top marks into the University of Tokyo; taking Law instead of her parents' preferred course of Theology.

_Guess it must have been pretty unsettling for them; their daughter getting sprogged. First screw, in all._

It was funny really, because she still couldn't remember it, although you were apparently supposed to. Ai laughed to herself for a couple of bitter seconds; putting it down to her own typical luck. She knew she could never tell him that in a million years; because undoubtedly, even though Ru was a nice guy, it would scare the shit out of him, quite understandably. All things said and done, it wasn't like it was a big deal- after all, the same sort of things happened to girls all the time.

Ai stood up, gathering herself together, smiled and began getting ready.


	20. 19: Fighter

"So, ready to tell me what happened then?"

My question, put in an irritatingly lighthearted tone made Taeko jump and smudge her eyeliner. She glared at me in response and I smiled back innocently. She didn't really mind- she'd been taking the piss out of me all week for getting a date with Reita, which I'd happily told her the morning after she'd hobbled back from over the road with a dreamy look on her face.

Kai and Uruha, believe it or not, had been gentlemanly about the whole thing. I think that Uruha'd had a word with Kai that night after I went to bed, because they didn't do anything more than smirk at her and look like they knew something. This of course, had annoyed the hell out of Taeko and she'd quickly started talking about anything and everything _not_ to do with the previous evening. The two of them had left in a hurry, most likely frightened by Taeko's scary demeanour after a fabulous, not-so-traditional breakfast of Yuki's of pancakes and bacon; because, she said, she 'couldn't be bothered' that day.

I wasn't sure whether Uruha and Kai had known about Rei asking me out for a drink, because Taeko had been the centre of attention in the sense of them causing a purposely uncomfortable mood. I wouldn't have been bothered, really; I felt insanely lucky. I didn't get an awful lot of nice, good-looking lads my way; so Reita was an extremely refreshing change. He was coming over to get me at seven. It was five now, so I was getting ready and Taeko was demonstrating her make-up expertise to me. It might have been a better idea to keep my mouth shut, really, but she was fun to wind up.

"I already told you, Miro," she retorted as calmly as she could, "_nothing_ happened. Haven't you got to focus on looking good for King Tut's stunt double?"

I rolled my eyes. "Again with the mummy jokes." I said, applying a rouge lipstick, "Honestly Taeko, they're getting worse."

She giggled and smeared a dab of blue glitter on my nose. "There. Cover it up and you'll both match."

"Hey, I've got nothing to hide!" I exclaimed, scooping it off and smearing it on her cheek, "Unlike some. What's he like, anyway?"

Taeko's eyes glazed over; a stupid smile forming on her features. "He's... extremely gorgeous. Charming, sweet, funny-"

"-and you've not even texted him?"

Taeko went pink. "No... I haven't. I figured I'd let him wait a while."

The real reason was because she was afraid to, rather than she didn't want to. She had his number rather than him having hers, so the whole 'him making the first move' thing had gone absolutely tits-up; because Taeko knew that if she texted him and got no response, she'd feel like shit for weeks. She'd been incredibly happy in the short time she'd known him; happier than she'd felt in a while and she really didn't want to risk compromising her memory of him for some kind of ugly reality- if that made sense at all. Had I known this at the time, I'd have slapped her playfully and told her to take a risk; but, if I'd known everything about Taeko that I do now, I'd have kept my damned mouth shut.

"I'm surprised he's not been round here looking for you." I replied, rubbing my nose to get off the glitter. The blue was staying on stubbornly; like I'd just been given a belt to the face. I tsked, annoyed and dabbed some concealer over it. It made me look pale, but it was better than looking like I'd gone a few rounds with The Undertaker.

"He doesn't know where I live."

A funny thought struck me midway through heavily powdering my nose. Were me and Taeko talking about the same Aoi?

"Er, Taeko," I said, grinning sheepishly, "how can he not know? He lives over the road."

Taeko looked at me as if I'd said something incredibly weird. "No he doesn't."

_Oh my God_. I tried very hard to keep a straight face. Had it really taken her this long to put two and two together?

"Why do you think all of the lads who live there _bar one_ crashed over here that night?" I asked, a snigger escaping.

"I don't know! I thought you were all drunk!" She exclaimed, before suddenly going very pale and quiet.

"You're joking, right?" She asked after a while, looking somewhat mortified.

Her expression was so over the top that I laughed. "What, you didn't know what Aoi it was?"

She leaned down to rest her head in her hands and smeared the blue stuff on her face up her sleeve.

"Fuck!!!"

"Calm down," I assured her, "life's not that bad."

"It is!" She exclaimed furiously, wiping the stuff off her T-shirt with an Olay cloth, "They'll never stop bringing it up! The lying bastards told me he was shy!"

"What, wasn't he shy around you then?" I asked her, grinning.

She went immediately redder. "Shut up."

"You shagged him, didn't you?"

There was a moment of silence between us both that said more than words. I punched the air triumphantly.

"I knew it!"

"I was drunk, okay!!" She exploded defensively, suddenly finding her voice, "I didn't know he was... he was _that_ Aoi!"

"Nothing to be ashamed of," I replied, calmly, "but I think that you bring around a side of him the others don't see, because he's definitely shy."

"And why's that?"

"Because," I repeated, still smiling, "it would explain, considering he's a nice guy, why he's not come over yet, or called. Although the lads are meant to be practicing this week, all of them have your number and I'm pretty damn sure he's asked for it."

* * *

Uruha looked at his reflection frustratingly. He'd battled with his hair with gel for the last fifteen minutes and it _still_ wasn't right. One spike at the back wouldn't stay upright, even though he'd used enough products on it to shame a drag queen. He growled, fiddled with it one last time, gave up and assured himself that Ai wouldn't notice. A couple of hands then clapped on his shoulders- Ruki's face coming into view.

"You look beautiful, darling." Ruki said, pouting at his reflection with false vanity. Uruha did likewise, tousling his hair with one hand and posing with the other on his waist.

"You think, angel?"

"Absolutely, cupcake."

Kai wandered in wearing a robe; shaking his head at the sight. He rolled his eyes, taking a swig of strong black coffee from the 'World's Greatest Dad' mug he'd nicked from home.

"You're both so gay." He groaned, scratching himself. He knew they were both kidding around, but for some reason it was making him incredibly uncomfortable. It was funny, because Kai didn't usually mind them acting like that. He often joined in with their antics- even going as far as pretending to dry-hump Aoi after he got out of the shower a couple of weeks before. Ever since Ruki had yelled at him the other week, Kai'd been on edge about _everything_; yelling at Ru if he messed up a solo, staying in his room alone for hours- things like that. They'd made up ages before, of course, but it had affected him deeply somehow in a way he didn't yet understand.

"Aw, come on Kai!" Ru exclaimed with an enthusiastic lisp in his voice, "Don'chu wanna be fabularrrrse?"

_Hmph_.

He decided to change the subject. "Where's Rei, anyway?"

"Showering," Ruki muttered, nothing more than apathy in his tone, "he's got a date."

Ruki should have been happy for Reita, but he wasn't. He really, really wanted to be, but he kept feeling bitter about it and it made him feel bad. It was about time that Rei moved on with his life- considering what he'd been though- and went out for a change. Why couldn't he just _see_ that?

_Because you wanted her for yourself, didn't you?_

He knew it was selfish and horrible of him, but he couldn't _help _it. Even though he'd been drunk when he'd seen her, he'd really felt something had clicked with Miro which he couldn't describe. He didn't know what exactly it was- whether it was because she was nice, pretty, funny and had helped him- but it had been _something_. He'd really wanted to pursue it, to find out what it was- but Reita had gotten there first, to his disappointment. He supposed though that it was a 'bros before hos' thing as well, so he really didn't have any reason to complain. After all- Reita hadn't known- and he wasn't planning on telling him anytime soon. He hated the idea of thinking of Miro in such an objectifying way, though.

"You okay Ruk?" Kai asked suddenly, a perplexed expression on his face. Ruki fell back to reality rapidly and nodded; flashing Kai a big grin which he hoped hadn't looked strained.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

_Come on, man_, Ruki thought to himself, _there's plenty more fish in the sea_.

* * *

Yuki was in a cheerful mood that evening. She'd finished everything and two of the girls were going out, leaving her with much needed peace and quiet. She loved her niece and liked Ai an awful lot as well, but it had been a hectic week for her and she felt she needed to put her feet up.

Even though she was looking forward to doing so, however; it also depressed a small part of her. The boarding house Yuki currently ran had once been an acclaimed ryokan; with a waiting list a mile long. Even after her husband died, she'd coped well enough on her own and it had earned her money enough to keep her more comfortable than a pension ever could. She'd done everything; at one point looking after ten guests at a time without any trouble at all.

Age. It had truly crept up on her. Yuki looked at her hands; her fingers slightly knarled from the beginnings of arthritis and sighed. They were the partial reason why she'd changed her business; along with her increasing tiredness.

_One day, Miro, you'll be as old as I am_, she thought, even though she disliked the idea_, I wonder how you'll find it?_

She supposed it was a mid-life crisis thing, or something of the sort. She wasn't _that_ old, but her fifty-ninth birthday was drawing near. Yuki remembered how she'd always joked about sixty being 'the age when one joins the OAP ranks' when she was younger. She sure as hell didn't think it was as funny anymore; but she didn't really feel bitter- she felt she'd led a long and colourful life which she was proud of.

Yuki poured herself some tea and sat down in the back room. She could still hear the faint noises of the girls laughing and squabbling upstairs, but other than that, the room was peacefully quiet. She took a sip of her tea and settled back on the armchair, reclining it. The main living room which she tended to use on special occasions had a more traditional layout, but Yuki preferred this room for its cosiness.

She didn't know what made her do it, but she picked up the portrait of herself and Kazuo, her husband, on the little table next to the sofa. She hadn't really looked at it since he passed away ten years ago- not out of pain (although she missed him terribly)- but simply because the idea hadn't crossed her mind. The both of them were smiling, frozen in time on the Great Wall of China. Kazuo had taken Yuki there for their honeymoon thirty-seven years ago as a surprise and it had been wonderful.

She breathed in suddenly, moisture falling from her face onto the picture. For a moment Yuki thought she was crying, but the fluid on the frame wasn't tears.

Yuki touched her nose, her fingers coming away smeared with blood. Drop after drop of the viscous liquid fell onto the photo, obscuring the image. She sighed, annoyed. It had been the third nosebleed she'd had that week- and they were beginning to become a nuisance; especially because she didn't seem to do anything to cause them.

Yuki held her head back, pinched her nose and headed back into the kitchen.

_So much for a relaxing evening._

* * *

**A/N: For those of you who are a little confused, 'taking the piss' out of someone means making fun of them; just in case anyone was like 'eww' XD (really hope that didn't sound patronising- I'm sorry if it did!) and a 'ryokan' is a traditional Japanese inn **

**Edit: Changed major plothole- sorry about that xD**


	21. 20: Bad Reputation

Reita closed his eyes, enjoying the warm spatter of water on his face from the overhanging shower. His scar was still sensitive to pressure, but it wasn't as bad as it used to be. His nose from the other day still stang, though. Rei had almost forgotten what it was like- the rush. Even though the coke's quality had been shit, it hit the spot better than the best rehabilitation psychiatrist could. It had burned like hell because of his lack of narcotic use as of late, however; which he figured was an incentive, really.

He wondered what Miro would do if she found out the stuff he'd done. He reasoned that she'd probably be put off by his addiction, quite understandably, if her were to tell her about it; but there was a hell of a lot more than just that to be turned off by. He felt, in some ways, dishonest about the whole thing; like he had no right to withhold who he really was from his other friends and people he cared about.

_Stop thinking like that. You're not that person anymore._

He _was_ though. He couldn't deny it; after all, he'd gone back on his pact. He wasn't strong enough and he was selfish. He'd wanted to change, he really had. Maybe he just really wasn't any good.

Taking the coke had helped his cravings for a while, but in the long run (which he was now currently feeling) it had only served to make them worse. He felt himself not just craving blow now, but _more_ of his gorgeous, high-inducing enemies which he'd sworn just as readily never to touch again. When he was younger- far too young, really- he'd literally taken _everything_ and he felt incredibly appalled at himself at wanting them; especially considering the shit they'd gotten him into. He cared about all of his friends; he really did and he didn't want to risk them, but the days seemed to be getting slower and more difficult without the tools to tide his addictions.

Rei sat down in the bath, one leg hanging out of the tub. A steady stream of droplets trickled down his slender calf and pittered onto the bathroom tiles; but he didn't feel ready to move yet. He leaned on his elbow on the side of the bath, thinking the thoughts that most young men do when they're bored and alone. Pretty soon, to his intense shame, they turned to Miro inadvertently. He felt himself twitch and he made a noise somewhere between annoyance and bliss.

Reita wasn't exactly a manwhore. He'd slept around a fair amount, sure; but then again, most guys his age did. However, he didn't usually make an effort to arrange dates or anything- most of his encounters were pretty unplanned and on the whole involved back-alley blowjobs or similar antics from drunk chicks. It wasn't because he was a dickhead, or that he _wanted_ to play the field; it was more because he just simply _couldn't_ commit. He'd been destroyed and only partially rebuilt psychologically and a lot of him repulsed the idea, because, ironically, a part of him just simply couldn't let go.

Miro was different though. He didn't know why, but another part of him felt with puppy-dog naivety that she wouldn't scream and run away if she saw his face. He hadn't seen many girls show the kindness she had towards others when they barely knew them; in his experience, the general consensus was to laugh and walk away from the awkwardness. He found her very attractive as well, which was again, weird; because he could never remember a single girl he'd been with over the past- what, two years now? Three?- who'd genuinely stunned him. He was actually feeling shy about seeing her- for some reason, his usual extroversion had been diminished, of late. Even thinking about her in _that_ way made his face grow warm and caused self-embarrassment to rise in his chest as if it was wrong; which was stupid really, because who was going to know?

Rei decided he'd justified the concept and started let his mind wander; the fall of the shower still steady and warm on his body. He wondered what _her_ body was like, under that dress. Even though she'd been small, she'd had pretty big boobs; which he'd noticed when she'd helped him to pick up Ruki on the night of the party. His mind hopelessly went to her naked; her back arched and her hair streaming backward in a cool, shining arc. It was so appealing a thought that, while he'd been thinking about it, he'd grasped himself tightly with his right. He sighed gently; looking down at the impressive erection he'd gotten.

_You might as well._

He relieved himself rapidly and smoothly, his groans generally drowned out by the noise of the shower; a notable benefit. He came quickly with a surprisingly intense orgasm, to his dismay. He hoped that if the both of them got up to anything in the future (with the assumption that tonight went well) that he'd be able to hold on for longer than that. He rinsed the traces of himself away and got up, turning off the shower.

Reita stepped out naked, searching for a towel. To his great annoyance, the bathroom mirror had only partially misted. Rei detested looking at his body even more than he did his face. People tended to be more sensitive about the noseband he wore, as they were more inclined to preserve his feelings about it by correctly assuming there was a reason for it being there. His body, however; was a different matter and the questions he'd gotten about it were constant- even, at first, from his friends. There were scars on his body, of course; but they weren't the reason he hated it.

He found a towel and quickly, before his eyes mindlessly wandered back to the mirror, covered up (as best he could) his irezumi.

* * *

"How do I look, ladies?" Ai asked, giving us a wink and a twirl.

She actually looked great. She'd come in earlier for makeup help (even though she didn't really need it) and Taeko had chosen a gorgeous set of brown, black and gold coloured shades which suited her beautifully by bringing out the ambery streaks in her brown eyes and exaggerating her already full lips. Ai'd then raided her wardrobe and had come out with all of these _amazing_ clothes- Chanel, Gucci; the absolute works. As she was a fashion model who had worked in some of the top national shows, she was pally with quite a few of the designers; which led to her getting their surplus stock free or at an insane discount._ Bitch_.

After some deliberation which had led to a pile of disgracefully treated clothes, Ai had chosen a short, black Versace dress with chunky gold jewellery, sheer tights with black seams up the back, gold Jimmy Choos with straps nearly up to her knees and a black artist's beret. As gorgeous as Uruha was, I thought he'd well and truly met his female equivalent in her- she was achingly beautiful. Saying that though, I really couldn't complain or be jealous; because as soon as I started picking up her clothes and folding them (as I couldn't bear to see them strewn about) she looked over and smiled cheerily at me.

"Do you like that top?" She asked, pointing at the one I was holding, "You can have it, if you like. It doesn't really suit me."

I started to refuse politely and looked at it, my eyes widening. It was a long, light blue vest top with shirred detailing on the front. It was gorgeous. It was Prada. And I was drooling. But, unfortunately, my conscience was playing up.

"I can't, Ai," I replied, a slight whimper of regret in my voice, "it's yours."

Ai giggled, shaking her head. "It's yours now. Honestly, keep it. It's the very least I can do for you helping me out."

I ask you now, who the hell is _that_ nice?

I could tell Taeko was trying very hard not to chime in which I admired, despite the fact that she was practically turning purple. But Ai hadn't forgotten her.

"Pick something out as well, Taeko," she added, combing her hair out and securing it with a large, gold grip, "I don't wear half of that stuff, so it'd be a shame if it went to waste; rotting in my wardrobe."

Taeko looked like she wanted to have sex with her. We were about to both pounce on Ai and hump both of her legs respectively in thanks, when the doorbell rang. The three of us hurried down the stairs rapidly to the front door, as excited for Ai as kids at Christmas.

It was Uruha as we'd expected- and he looked as equally beautiful as she did. He gave me and Taeko a warm grin, but, when he saw Ai, his expression changed rapidly. He looked, for a better word, gobsmacked at the sight of her and I felt amazingly happy for Ai because of it. Her own features reciprocated and she glanced at her feet, rapidly going red.

"Howdy, pretty lady." Ru said, softly.

Ru then did the single most romantic thing I've even seen a guy do to a girl. He threw the traditional Japanese customs out of the window, took her hand, lowered himself down and kissed it, gently.

Me and Taeko exchanged glances, waved goodbye and went into the kitchen, unnoticed. It was time for them to be alone.

* * *

**A/N: I don't want to spoil the surprise for you all, so I'm not gonna say what 'irezumi' are XD (If you already know (nooo!), then you might have an idea about why Rei is the way he is, but I figure it's more fun finding out x))**


	22. 21: Sugarbaby

Ru drove his Honda at breakneck speed. He wasn't really sure why- probably because he felt uncomfortable in the silence of the car. Ai had tried to make conversation, but Ru couldn't concentrate on conversation while driving; an ingrained habit gained from his tyrannical driving instructor after he'd failed his test twice before. He felt like a complete idiot and rude because of it; especially because she was looking well... _amazing._

He flew over a bump going around seventy and the car jolted; so much that Ai was lifted a few inches off her seat with the force. He cringed at the noise it made when they landed. His car might have been a Honda, but it wasn't a _good_ one. He'd gotten it third-hand from a shady car dealer on the other side of the city when he was seventeen for what he'd _thought _was a good deal at the time, considering it had been a 'fairly' new-looking Accord. But when he'd had to push it halfway home and given it a proper look-over one day relatively soon after; he'd realised with some irritation that he'd gotten pretty much what he'd paid for. The engine hadn't been cleaned in what looked like decades and there were patches of rust around the base of the car which had simply been spray-painted over. It had cost him more than the actual car itself to get it in shape enough to drive and, even though it was a pain at times, he loved it.

They eventually pulled outside Bella Roma- his favourite Italian place. His parents had taken him there for his birthday ever since he was fifteen and for every exam he passed. He was surprised, on hindsight, that he hadn't gotten fat from the amount of Fettuccini he'd eaten there; but it sounded amazingly big-headed, so he didn't say it. As expected, the town centre was bustling full of people doing their usual Saturday evening shopping; ignoring the rain as best they could as they busted about, the occasion squeals of women audible following splashes from what could only be puddles.

"We're here," he said suddenly to Ai, who jumped; seemingly used to the silence. She turned to face him, her wide brown eyes glittering from the light of the low streetlamps. He felt a fuzzy feeling inside which he was uncertain of as he looked back at her. It sure wasn't a bad thing, though.

"For the last time," she said, "are you absolutely sure that you don't want me to chip in?"

Ru nodded, smiling. "I'm sure. I've got plenty." He felt in his pocket for his wallet, where he always kept it, just to reassure her.

A knot of panic formed in his chest when he couldn't find it. He searched his whole body, just to make sure; Ai's eyes growing slowly more confused.

_How can this be? I put it in there, I put- _

His eyes narrowed in realisation.

_Those BASTARDS. _

* * *

Frieda had punished Aoi for turning up to work an hour late earlier that week by making him work a triple shift on the weekend with a kitchen patrol element; which meant running around washing dishes and checking pans when the chef went off to smoke or urinate without washing his hands afterwards. It was hot, tiresome work and Aoi's mood was terrible. He was getting a cramp in his shoulder, his thigh was bruised from the other day when Kai had jumped on him when he'd come out of the shower, he was covered in grease and ketchup from when some kid threw his fish fingers and fries at him and- to top it the fuck _all_- Taeko hadn't called him.

He supposed he couldn't blame her really. It had been a bit unorthodox of him to give her his number rather than it being the other way around, but it had been a spur of the moment decision. A lump formulated in his throat at a nasty thought that crept through his head while he was stirring a lumpy concoction of spaghetti and meatballs in a gargantuan aluminium pot.

_Did she think that you took advantage of her?_

That couldn't be though- she'd done things to him while she was sober. If she thought that, why would she have bothered at all? Aoi's vigorous stirring was beginning to make the mixture look like paste, so he dropped the spoon for a moment and relaxed.

_Calm down. You're being paranoid._

In all fairness, Aoi had gotten her number off of Reita that very same day in work when he'd had a spare moment away from Frieda's screaming, so, theoretically; he could have initiated conversation between them both. But of course, being shy; this was about as possible for him as leaping to Korea. He thought it was pathetic really; that a grown man, even if young, found it so difficult to talk to a woman who he'd slept with.

_I mean, come on,_ Aoi thought, trying to convince himself whilst dropping dirty dishes into the sink,_ you've seen her naked, for God's sake!_

He rinsed his sticky hands and took out his phone. Pratt-ass didn't like them having their phones out in work; not because it distracted them, but because she occasionally overheard sharp conversational snippets from her employees, even when they talked in private, which were often about her. Of course, this rule didn't apply to Frieda herself and she regularly walked around with an oversized Nokia glued to her ear; bawling endlessly to her husband about how the Japanese were lazy and stupid. Aoi, however, was neglecting the rule because of the current addictive regime he'd gotten himself into over the past week. Check, nothing, put down. Check, nothing, put down. Check, Kai, put down. He felt undeniably ashamed of himself because of it, but he couldn't help it.

For a change, he actually had a text. He rolled his eyes, expecting it to be Kai asking him to smuggle something 'interesting' home for dinner, or a bill off his phone company. Because, after all, it wasn't going to be from Taeko.

It wasn't, as he'd expected, but it was from someone different for a change. It was from Ru.

_Wonder what's up?_ He thought, opening it.

_we can see u, kitchen boy ;-)_

Aoi turned around and peered through the wooden hole in the wall which separated the restaurant from the kitchen. He didn't know why it was there; for some reason, whoever built the restaurant must have thought that watching your dinner being cooked in its greasy, blood-spattered glory was appetising. He figured that the majority of Japanese restaurants were the same; but it was arguable that fish, being the most common ingredient, didn't bleed as much and that the chefs made an effort to put on fabulous shows involving a vast amount of knife-throwing. He remembered back to the time in middle school when Kai had attempted to make sautéed unagi, whilst in the process nearly losing two fingers and hospitalising the teacher. He chuckled heartily at the memory.

Uruha, of course, was there. Aoi had thought that he'd come to annoy him for a laugh, but he wasn't alone. A tall, pretty girl was with him who he thought he recognised (but wasn't sure) and she was leaning on his shoulder. He immediately felt exasperated completely beyond his will at the sudden, _awkward_ recollection of Taeko, but he managed to pull off a grin before he walked over.

"Just so you know, we're not here to annoy," Ru said, his return grin a little strained, "we're here for the food, for a change. Denny's does discounts, right?"

"For students, yeah." Aoi replied, "If you can prove it. It's not generally worth it, though. You both must have been either really hungry, or desperate."

Ru looked embarrassed and Aoi suddenly realised how it must have sounded, but the girl giggled and kissed him on the cheek. Admiration flowed through Aoi when he saw her bright, optimistic expression. She was either an extremely lovely person, or an excellent actress. She'd have to be.

"It's okay, Ru," she said, poking him, "I like Denny's! I used to come here as a kid."

Ru immediately cheered up and shoved Aoi playfully. "Gonna get us a table like a good friend, man?"

Aoi looked around and shrugged; empty tables everywhere. "Help yourself. You're pretty spoiled for choice. By the way, I can only extend my apologies henceforth for the lack of edible food on the menu. I'll cook it, I promise. I'm basically the chef in this joint during weekends, anyway."

The pair of them chose the nicest table in the whole restaurant; which wasn't _THAT_ nice- but it had the fewest fries strewn about on the floor around it. Aoi wondered why Ru'd chosen to take such a pretty girl to such a crap restaurant- if you could even _call_ Denny's a restaurant. He preferred to think of it as a 'shithole', but he supposed that it was to each their own.

Ru then answered his questions by rummaging though his pockets and coming up with two five-hundred yen coins and a couple of coppers. He dropped them on the table, where they made an unwelcome thud.

_Ah._

"What happened to your wallet? I thought you took out ten?"

"One of the fuckers nicked it."

Aoi snorted, facepalming himself in pity for the guy.

"Oooh, that's almost funny enough to outweigh the downright cruelty. Who do you think it was?"

Ru shrugged, looking a mixture of being both cross and dishevelled. "No idea. Probably Kai. I'll kill whoever did when I get back."

"You should have made him go back and find it," Aoi said to the young woman who was with Ru, "Hell, I would've done. Least you wouldn't get salmonella."

She shook her head kindly. "It's okay- I insisted. It was getting late, it was nearby, it was raining... I could go on. Thanks for your concern though... Aoi, is it?"

Aoi jolted, a little surprised that she knew who he was. She saw his confused expression and giggled.

"Nametag," she explained, pointing at the hugely annoying (and somewhat ironic) "Aoi Shiroyama: 'Great food, great people, great service- every time!'" badge he wore. He rolled his eyes, tweaking it with his fingers.

"It always gives me away," Aoi said, with pretend disappointment in his voice. He flipped open the greasy order book from the front of his stained apron; along with a pen that he was sure was out of ink, but was still working for some reason. The girl looked at him funny for a second and nudged Ru, who was sitting beside her.

"Is he the guy who Taeko...?"

Aoi groaned with embarrassment, his face erupting. She immediately realised she'd said something wrong and fell silent, looking guilty. He looked at Uruha; who seemed to have suddenly become extremely interested in a salt-shaker. How many people knew about them? Had he gone around _telling_ people?

_And how does she know Taeko?_

Before he could ask them, they were interrupted by an unwelcome shriek. Frieda bounded into view from the kitchen; her creased blue suit spattered with red stains.

Red stains?

_Shit,_ he realised in horror, _the spaghetti and meatballs!_

"SHIROYAMA!!"

* * *

Reita threw Ru's wallet at Ruki, where it landed at his feet with a thud. Dazed, he picked it up- at first not realising what it was. He opened it; a string of photographs depicting Uruha and Kai in their first year at high school falling out. He understood then, with a laugh.

"You didn't," Kai whispered from the corner, grinning from ear-to-ear.

"Ah mawst soiytantly diad." Rei replied with a Scarlett 'O Hara drawl, admittedly impressive-sounding in Japanese.

"Aw, that's just mean, man," Ruki chuckled, shaking his head, "she's gonna think he's a right gimp."

"To be fair though," Kai added, throwing a paper ball of 'failed' lyrics into the waste paper basket, "he's already knocked her up, so it's not like her expectations were high to begin with."

"True."

Reita got up, stretched and eyed himself in the full length mirror across the room. He tousled his hair a bit with his fingers, the spikes defining nicely. Considering he usually couldn't stand looking at himself, he thought he wasn't looking so bad tonight. He smiled, posing deliberately to annoy the others and got the expected eye-rolls and generic sighs in response.

_Not bad at all._

He considered wearing his green 'Kiss me, I'm Irish' noseband, but he thought it'd be too cheesy for going out in; especially because he liked Miro and didn't want to seem too forward. Rei had picked it up a while back from a website he'd come across which was riddled with weird gadgets and bric-a-brac. He'd liked the site so much in fact that it'd been his source of birthday presents for everyone that year. He'd gotten a shock collar for Aoi, a box of glow-in-the-dark condoms for Ru, a pair of detachable 'trainer springs' for Kai (which had been EXTREMELY annoying for the first couple of weeks he'd had them) and a beer hat for Ruki. He really wanted this to go well though, for a change. So, instead, he pulled on his leather jacket and winked at Ruk.

"See you later, gorgeous."

Ruki winked back, running his tongue over his lips in mock seduction. "Later."

Neither of them noticed the beads of sweat on Kai's forehead as he watched them both.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you all for your reviews and feedback! I seriously couldn't have asked for better readers (and sorry I've not said so earlier) :D **

**Thinking of changing the title to 'Tokyo Music'. I think it sounds a bit better, because the title (to me) makes the story sound pretty Miro-centric which I don't think is very fair to the other characters. If anyone's like 'NOOOOO' then please say XD**

**I'm probably going to get rid of the synopsis and stick a prologue in there instead to make it flow better, so expect that soon x)**


	23. 22: Another Brick in the Wall

It had been half an hour, but Yuki's nosebleed hadn't stopped. She'd tried everything, from putting ice on it to compressing it heavily, but nothing seemed to be working. She supposed she was a bit anaemic, or something like that, but it worried her nonetheless and she was rapidly beginning to feel very faint. Yuki thought about asking one of the girls to drive her to the hospital, but she didn't want to trouble them.

She heard a knock on the door- and the inevitable voices which followed engaged in cheerful chatter for a few moments- but it quickly closed again. It didn't take much to figure out that the Suzuki boy had picked Miro up. He was certainly a good looking young lad- and nice, as well- Yuki had conversed with him on several occasions when they'd come across each other in the nearby grocery store. But there was something about him that made her uneasy. She didn't know what it was, but she was sure that when she looked into his eyes, she saw something strange, something that the average eighteen or nineteen year old didn't have.

To her, he had the eyes of an old man. An old man who has seen so much pain and misery in his lifetime that he no longer feels any need to keep going, at all. Yuki felt for him, she really did- with the motherly instinct which she had never satisfied or put to good use. Kazuo and she, unfortunately, never felt that they could have children while they were married. It wasn't because they didn't like them- that wasn't the case at all. Their business had been their lives- and they hadn't wanted any children running around possibly getting hurt or disrupting things. Instead, they'd said that they'd have children when they retired, which never came. They worked and worked until her forty-ninth year and then, Kazuo died and left Yuki to cope on her own; for she could never be with anyone else.

Yuki reasoned that this time that she needed help ought to be no different. Who could she rely on, after all, but herself? So, instead of bothering them, she left a note for the girls in a brief scrawl, called for a cab and went to the hospital, alone.

* * *

Reita took me to an old fashioned style pub called 'Biru Futatsu', close to the west side of Tokyo bay. I thought it'd be extremely expensive because of this, but he assured me that it wasn't and that it was on him, anyway. Although this was incredibly sweet of him, I hate being paid for. I don't know why; it makes me feel somewhat uncomfortable for some reason, like I owe the person who's paying for me something. But, as I didn't want to annoy him by insisting, I kept my mouth shut.

As soon as the familiar aromas of cooking food, smoke and lager hit me, I felt at home again. The ensemble of the pub was very like the one near my home in Liverpool, where I lived with my parents. I used to live in Formby, which is a countryish part and, for some reason, is famous for its red squirrels. It was called 'The Green Dragon' (as the owner had been obsessed with The Lord of the Rings ever since he was a child) and me and my friends Jenny and Mike used to go there to get drunk before we went on nights out. The majority of the time though, we ended up just staying there after about five pints or so; too drunk, lazy or comfortable to bother moving.

"It's my favourite pub," Rei yelled through the din, whilst guiding me to a table through hoards of drunk Japanese sailors.

"Thanks for taking me," I yelled back.

He took me to the back of the pub (which was surprisingly quiet and restaurant like) and we settled down on a rough wooden table underneath a leaded window. It sounds horrible on description, but it was actually really nice and warm- a nearby fire blazing in the huge stone hearth. I exchanged glances with Rei, who smiled at me.

He was looking great that night; even better now he was sober. He had this aura around him that just made him come across as incredibly cool- _ice_ cool. But at the same time, when he smiled (like he was doing now) he gave off an incredibly warm and friendly vibe. Even if nothing became of this (which I hoped wouldn't happen) I wouldn't have said no to having him as a friend.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, out of the quiet.

_Was I?_

My stomach let out a loud, stereotypical rumble that made me roll my eyes in embarrassment. Admittedly, I was starving, but I didn't want to feel bad by pigging out, because I thought it wouldn't be fair on Reita if he had to pay any more than drinks for me. So, I shook my head, my grin a little strained. Reita raised an eyebrow in reply- and chuckled.

"No offence Miro, but you're _such_ a shit liar."

"How'd you guess?" I asked him, a quizzical look on my features.

"Because for a second, I thought we were getting hit by an earthquake."

"Oh." I felt my face heat up, to which Rei laughed.

"Relax," he said, "it's seriously fine. I'm ordering something. I would feel incredibly rude if you didn't."

I looked at the menu; my eyes immediately falling on the home-baked lamb pie and chips. My mouth watered, helplessly. Yuki's lunch felt ages away.

"If you're sure," I said, a little more uneasily than I'd intended to sound.

We ordered drinks first- Rei, a pint of Guiness and me, a Malibu and pineapple. I usually ordered Magners, but I wanted to exhibit my more feminine side, for a change. We then sat around for a while, as people getting to know each other do, laughing over familiar anecdotes and making light conversation. Usually I found this to be an awkward process, but with Rei, it was actually nice. He told me about the time in school where his Chemistry teacher set a student on fire by knocking a jar of potassium into a half-full sink of water; so I laughed and told him about the time in _my_ school when someone burned their cookies in Food Technology which- because the teacher didn't like me- _I_ got blamed for. Similar stories followed- until our two gorgeous looking helpings of pie arrived, which we appreciated in mutual, comfortable quiet.

* * *

After Miro left, Taeko went up to her room to watch a film. She would usually have gone to talk to Yuki, but she knew that she would probably have wanted to talk about Aoi and she didn't really know what to think about it at that moment in time. So, she chose the bloodiest, scariest slasher film she had and stuck it on; completely indifferent to its gore and excessive screaming. What was wrong with her? She should be out enjoying herself; it was Saturday night and she was eighteen, for God's sake.

After a while, she got bored and switched it off. Taeko loved horror movies, but she wasn't really in the mood for doing anything that night, really. Except for seeing Aoi. She looked over at her phone next to her and fingered the buttons gingerly. She didn't like going back on things that she'd said, but Miro had made a valid point earlier.

Taeko decided to get a cup of coffee to help her mull over the idea. She half expected Yuki, as usual, to shoo her back upstairs and make it for her as she always did; but, to her surprise, Yuki didn't come out from the kitchen. Taeko went inside curiously to investigate and found a note on the kitchen table.

_Taeko-chan (or anyone else who reads this), _

_Have left to go get a check-up at the hospital. Don't worry, it's just a nosebleed- probably anaemia. Left you a bento box in fridge if you're hungry with gyoza and other stuff in it. Hope you have a good night and take care of yourself, _

_Yuki Ishimaru xx_

After reading it through twice and the initial worry had warn off, Taeko sat down at the kitchen table and sighed downheartedly.

_Great_, she thought, _I'm alone. Even Yuki-san doesn't want me around, nowadays._

Her phone vibrated then, as if by magic. Taeko felt around in the pocket of her denim cut-offs for it, nearly dropping it when she got it out. Her breath seized in her chest when she saw the name.

It was from her mother.

Taeko hadn't spoken to her family since she left. She'd put it off endlessly; lying to Yuki and making excuses. For a few moments, she stared at the name on the screen, until her phone dimmed and went dark. She couldn't look at it, she just couldn't-

_She screams; a sound which she never would have recognised before. Nobody hears it- _

Being alone seemed far worse now. She'd managed to hold off her memories for long enough, but now they were all coming back in rapid floods. Taeko felt almost as if she was back there, back in the darkness and the suffering. She couldn't- wouldn't- go back there.

_Fuck pride._

So, Taeko Hanabishi texted Aoi Shiroyama; asking him if he'd like to come over to talk.

* * *

_Blam! _

_B-boom!_

Ruki threw down his controller in triumph as bits of Kai rained down in the videogame that they were playing. Kai looked over at him; his face affixed with a look that was somewhere between shock and exasperation.

"Who's the king?" Ruki taunted, tickling his chin cruelly, "WHO. IS. THE. KING??"

"Shut up, you prick." Kai grumbled, pouting in annoyance.

"Aaw, can't take a loss? Gonna just sulk like a girl?"

At that insult, Kai let out an almighty roar and dive-tickled Ruki to the floor. The two of them wrestled playfully, yelling at each other and punching, until Kai managed somehow to pin Ruki down and sat on him, holding down his arms.

"Could a girl do this?" He said to Ruki, pulling tongues at him.

"All right, all right!" Ruki replied, panting, "Now get off me, you're heavy."

Kai didn't, however. Instead he looked at Ruki, his eyes slowly widening. He was getting a sceptical look back- but he couldn't help it, all the same. His eyes traced Ruki's face, examining, evaluating and- to his absolute horror- _appreciating_.

_Has he always been so-? _

Kai snapped back to reality with a nasty thump and tore his eyes away. Disgusted with himself, he clambered off of Ruki and left the room- leaving Ruki alone and confused.

* * *

**A/N: Wrote a prolgue to change the synopsis, which I think helps the story along much, much better- so that's taken its place. Hope you're all liking it so far :D Again, thanks to all of you who've given me feedback and reviews- they really, really help and I'm extremely grateful XD**


	24. 23: Hangnail

Ai had managed to tide Frieda's initial fury at Aoi by thankfully being recognised. Pratt-ass, to everyone's surprise, actually_ read_ fashion magazines. Whether or not she took their advice, however, seemed to be an entirely different matter. After the initial torrent of questions and the consequent forced promises of seats, Frieda had left the trio in a somewhat happy mood; giving Aoi no more than an annoyed glare. This happy manner of hers had led to better food than usual for both Ai and Ru at Denny's that night; as Frieda had actually bothered to scrounge fresh ingredients for a change, which Aoi had subsequently put to use with the best of his culinary abilities. The two of them now sat alone together; Aoi scurrying back and forth from the kitchen and to other tables as the chef dealt with the orders of the other, according to Pratt-ass, 'common people' . Ru had ordered steak and fries which was proving to be satisfying in all of its fat-laden glory and had led him to wonder again, considering all the crap he ate, why he wasn't fat. Ai had ordered the same however; thereby breaking the stupid femininity-in-food barrier by actually getting a _decent_ meal for a change, rather than a ninety-calorie salad. Ru liked that. He liked it very much.

Ai took a large bite of a French fry speared on her fork, a euphoric look on her face. She saw then that Uruha was watching her; in a curious kind of way. She put down her fork and bit her lip, looking somewhat disgruntled.

"Perhaps I should have ordered something healthier," she said, eyes fixed on the steak, "it would have been more responsible of me, but I was so hungry-"

"Shhh," he said, looking at her worriedly, "I'm sure it's fine. Think about it- I mean, surely you'd be much worse off starving yourself instead of having a decent meal?"

She nodded, picking at the glistening gristle with her fork. "I guess so."

Suddenly, without warning, she burst into tears.

_Oh fuck, what had he said?_

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, rubbing her eyes. A streak of makeup formed where she'd rubbed, but neither of them noticed. Uruha took her hand in his, rubbing it with his thumb. It seemed to calm her a little, as her sobs rapidly began to cease.

"Don't cry," Ru whispered to her softly, "whatever it is, it can't be that bad."

She smiled at him briefly. The tears had washed her face clean, aside from the odd grey-black tracks of residual mascara streaking her cheeks. She looked incredibly young; much younger than she really was. Uruha felt like he'd been socked in the stomach; a painful, gut wrenching feeling of remorse taking over him rapidly. As he looked at her, he could see the image of himself in her eyes. His reflection was screaming to him now.

"_Life ruiner! Life ruiner-"_

"You know what," she said flatly, out of the silence, "I was thinking about, you know, _it_ today. What I was gonna do about things. I thought about having an abortion."

If she did, Ru was sure it would certainly make things easier for the both of them. They could go back to their lives; the lives that they were used to, or virtually, anyway. So why was the idea so chilling to him? He sighed, casting his gaze downward.

_Because it's not fair._

Aisha hiccupped, her features distorting into what could only be described as a pained grin. Pity welled inside Uruha as he met her eyes. They were full of child-like fear, unhelped by her currently juvenile appearance. He felt a great need to hold her and protect her from the ugly world around them; feeling ridiculous as the idea crossed his mind.

"I can't, though," she continued, her eyes red, "even if it would be easier for the both of us... I can't. It's not because I fear God will never forgive me, or anything like that. It's more the fact that_ I_ wouldn't be able to forgive myself. I'd be murdering someone innocent, who never had a choice or part of any of this- just to simplify things for myself- and it's something I cannot go through."

She grasped the delicate crucifix at her throat, as if willing Ru to understand, but she didn't need to. He understood completely and accepted it. He leant over the table and kissed her gently on the head, whilst cupping her chin in his hand. He may not have liked the way the future was going for them both because of the way it scared him; but it wasn't something he could just get rid of, either. Ai had lost so, so much because of him- her home, her family, probably her job- pretty much everything. To ever ask her to sacrifice anything anymore, especially her own _child_, was something Uruha well and truly felt he had no right to do. In retrospect, he well and truly blamed himself for everything.

"It's okay," he told her, "I'm with you on this. Anything you decide, I'm with you-"

"-but you _can't_ leave!" Frieda bawled, interrupting them rudely. Ru turned around to complain, but found, to his dismay that she was right across the restaurant.

_Jesus_, he thought, amazed, _who the hell is that loud?_

Quickly, although unsurprisingly, he realised who she was yelling at. Aoi had changed back into his regular skinny jeans, Metallica shirt and over-the-top, Manson-resembling spiky jewellery. Ru watched him as he grabbed his jacket (ignoring Frieda) with a look that was between dreamy happiness and determination.

"My shift's practically over, anyway," Aoi yelled back in a surprising feat of courage, "I'll make up whatever's left another day. Considering the lack of time I've had off the week proportionally to my pay; you pretty much extort me, so there's no _way_ you can complain about _me_ being unfair, Mrs Pratt."

With that, he swung round on a spurred leather cowboy boot towards the door and slammed it behind him.

* * *

Kai hadn't returned, much to Ruki's annoyance and confusion. It had been a fight, sure; but they wrestled and messed around all the time- it wouldn't have been that which had upset him. So what could it be?

He blew up an alien on Halo 3; chuckled when it fell off a cliff and paused the game for a minute. Kai had acted really strangely that week towards all of them- like, in an almost aloof way- which was so amazingly _un_like Kai that Ruki found it hard to believe.

He remembered the way Kai had looked at him when he'd been pinned down by him and shuddered. It had been weird, really weird; as if he wanted to, well, _eat _him, but wasn't quite sure how to go about doing it. Eat him, or _fuck_ him. Ruki wasn't certain which, but the idea made him giggle uncomfortably, as if he were on the end of a joke that everybody understood; but he was the one guy that didn't. It was a stupid thing to think, though- _Kai_ wasn't gay. It seemed stupid the he should even have _considered_, considering Kai was the manwhore he was. A far more sensible thought would have been something along the lines of him having spinach in his teeth, or something. But, saying that, why would Kai have gone off for ages and not come back?

Ruki didn't know. He wanted to talk to Kai about it and even started to get up to do so, but then sat down, reasoning with himself. If he were in Kai's shoes, what would he do?

_Leave him be. The kid seemed pretty scared- so give him some time to think._

Ruki lay back on his bed and closed his eyes. He felt too tired to play Halo anymore that night- feeling he'd killed enough Covenant and Flood monsters to satisfy himself for a while. He thought about undressing down to his boxers, but he was comfortable and exhausted already, so it seemed a waste of time; really. Pretty soon, he felt himself drifting off- and he began to dream.

* * *

Not fifteen minutes after Taeko had texted; she heard a knock on the door which made her eyebrows rise. Had she sounded _that_ urgent? She looked at the text she'd written.

_hey, was wondering if u were busy? hope ur ok. could do with some1 to talk to atm, since all my friends have done runners, but understand if u can't/ don't want to. T xx _

She didn't personally think so, but maybe it read urgently to someone else; or it was one of the others coming back. That seemed certainly more likely, but Taeko got up to answer the door regardless.

She certainly was surprised that she'd actually been right, for a change.

Aoi stood there panting, as if he'd been running- which she found incredibly sweet. As soon as he saw her though, his face brightened. He straightened himself, soaked from the constant rain and waved sheepishly at her.

"Um..." he started, looking at his shoes, "hi."

Taeko hadn't planned on doing what she was about to do- she really had initially wanted to talk things through. But she quickly realised that it wasn't what she needed at all. She needed something to take her mind off things- and, as awful as it sounded to her when she thought about it, Aoi was the perfect distraction.

She grasped his collar and pulled him to her, ignoring the surprised look on his features and kissed him, hard. Almost immediately, Taeko felt him reciprocate with the same intensity. She dragged him inside, closing the door to the late summer rain.

* * *

After eating, me and Rei had gone to the bar area, which had become slightly quieter. Rei explained sketchily that it was because most of the sailors only made short stops before they had to set off again, because the majority of them had to generally leave fairly early to keep to their overnight shipping deadlines. I was surprised he knew so much about it, but, after a couple of navy jokes, he changed the subject briefly.

"So," he said, looking right into my eyes, "what's your family like?"

I rolled my eyes, not sure where to start. I still hadn't heard from them all week. Shou had an excuse, at least; he was in the navy, working away on boats, planes or whatever stuff needed fixing or improving. He was four years older than me and had just gotten his master's in Mechanical Engineering from Glasgow University, so he was pretty much geared up to use it. My brother has always been the optimistic, smart, happy-go-lucky one out of the both of us and it used to drive me up the wall, until recently. Now, I felt myself actually _missing_ him.

"They're..." I searched for a word, "interesting."

Reita laughed and took a swig from his pint of Orion. "I guess you don't get on with them that much."

"What was your first clue?" I teased sarcastically.

"I think someone who was deaf, blind and incontinent could have got the idea," he replied, grinning, "it's pretty obvious."

I shoved him gently, giggling. "Not everybody gets on with their parents, you know. Why, are you like 'Mister Perfect' in your family, or something?"

His face changed then, to an expression of immense sadness and I immediately felt that I had trodden on unwelcome ground. I started to apologise for asking, but Reita shook his head.

"They're dead," he answered, flatly, "so don't worry about it. You couldn't have known."

I suddenly felt cold. His tone had been so emotionless that it had almost scared me; even more than what he'd actually said. I quickly realised that there was indeed a lot of damage- a lot of unknown damage- within Rei that I didn't really feel I had any right to pry into.

"I'm so sorry."

Reita smiled, looking into his beer. "It's fine. Funny, really- I've not thought about them for ages. Sounds bad, right?"

I just looked at him, trying to find words to make the situation better. But none came that were suitable, so we finished our drinks in silence. I started to get up, feeling it would be a nice thing to do if I bought the next round, but Rei stopped me.

"It's on me," he told me, his hand on my shoulder, "Really. Please don't make me pin you down; it's honestly fine."

I smiled in response, but the uneasy feeling was still present. Even so, I had to admit, I wouldn't have minded him pinning me down.

* * *

**A/N: I've got loads of work to do for the next while, so I probably won't be updating as often. I still will, of course- but probably once or twice per week. I'm sooo sorry about this! But, as a bonus, the main bit of the plot is coming up pretty soon :D**


	25. 24: The Sound of Silence

_He knows he's committed something that they will kill him for. Something for which they will never forgive him. His nails are bitten down so much that they are bleeding. He's walking along now, streets from where he lives, but although the thought of where he is going is a slight comfort to him, the horrible dread of what will happen later haunts him with an ugly drone. _

_Where he walks is equally ugly. Abysmally ugly. It's a neighbourhood that was once a nice place to live, but over time has decayed because of the vermin living in it. He knows this because he has seen it decaying all his life. The street he's walking down now, for one, used to be unparalleled in cleanliness and beauty; with trees lining the sides of the road. Some of them are still there, but the ones that haven't been burnt down by kids or stolen for timber are rotted and dead like the rest of the place. He kicks a cola can which has been used as a cheap bong by some crackhead kid who couldn't afford anything better to use; a tale told by the faint, almost flowery odour and burn marks around needle points in the centre, which he knows act as vents. It spirals through the air for a second or two and lands in a pile of dog turds about twenty feet from where he's strolling with a soft thock. He snorts in disgust and turns to go the other way._

_His disgust very quickly turns to misery and he stops for a second, unable to see. He realises then, when his throat becomes sore and his face sticky, that he is crying. He hasn't cried yet until now, not after what happened and it disgusts him that he can't understand why. It is natural of course, but he has been sharpened to the point where any signs of emotion aside from the mandatory anger and aggression are barely legible in his brain, so when they come (as they sometimes do) he does not understand them and they kill him inside. He sobs as if there is nothing else that matters, which, in the grand scheme of things for him, currently, is more than reasonable._

_He looks at the small, crescent scars on the back of his hand. In the pink-grey light from the ongoing sunset they glint like silvery, waxing moons. He whispers a name- _

_(Megumi)_

_-and slaps himself hard in the face to get a grip on himself. It is painful, yes, but it reminds him of how he has to stay focussed. He cannot see the mark he has made on his face because of it, but if he could, he would see an angry red weal. A woman jumps at the noise and looks at him, startled for a moment before continuing on her way, albeit somewhat uneasily. He does not know her and he does not care. All he cares about is getting to where he needs to be, although he doubts he will reach his destination at all- in time, or when the unavoidable future events are played out pre-emptively when he is taken. _

_Some kids approach him and he hesitates for a moment, hostile, but they do not work with his enemies. They want his wallet, they say, or they'll beat the shit out of him. They look like they're rookies in the business, even though they appear older than he is. One of them has stubble and a tattoo on his arm of arcane symbols- the other wears a skullcap and has a greasy face dotted with blackheads. He smells terrible, like sweat and old vinegar. These two do not scare him however and fuck, he's going to let them know it. He may be worn right now, but he's no pushover and the adrenaline in his veins is urging him to react with impatience and ruthlessness. _

_The bigger one with the skullcap is the one he hits. He lashes out at his face with a punch that is as hard at it is fast. It lands against the guy's nose with a sickening crunch. It breaks easily, with a generous spray of blood and a squeal of splintering cartilage. The guy also squeals and falls to his knees, nursing his busted nose. He surveys the damage he has caused for a second, to check to see how badly he has hurt him. Blood is pooling on the floor in floods from the wound. Drool, useless threats and curses run from his mouth in web-like strands. He ignores them and turns his eyes to the other guy, who is looking a cross between furious and frightened. He beckons to him, to challenge him to come forward. This is not because he wants to hurt the guy- the contrary, in fact- it is a warning. He has a blackbelt in karate, immutably vicious training he has received during his time with the Souma-Kai and a few tricks he has picked up during the short bursts he has spent in juvenile detention centres. Failing that, there's a loaded snub-nosed revolver in his boot and a switchblade in his back pocket. He knows he looks like a kid, but if the two of them were to know who he actually was (well, before recently, anyway) they would either run screaming, or beg to live. Reita Suzuki is, for lack of better descriptions, a crazy motherfucker._

_However, the stupid kid does not back down and he takes out an army knife from inside his coat. The edge is serrated slightly and it glimmers like the crescent scars on his hand. He swings it forward with an agonised cry and Reita ducks casually to avoid it. He mainly misses it, but it does graze his arm slightly with a nasty sting. His breath releases in a sigh- _

_(Fool)_

_-and he knees the kid in the balls. _

_The kid doesn't scream like the other kid did; rather, he makes a sound that sounds almost primal. A long moaning sound; with breaths coming in chokes at the end. He falls to his knees with the pain and collapses, his eyes shut with the agony. He looks at his attacker and feels nothing at all for him. He doubts that the kid will be able to get up after that, so he turns to walk across the road away from the bloody mess, but then, with a grunt, the guy with the broken nose gets up. He staggers to his feet, his balance somewhat off- with no real surprise. The wound is ugly and gaping. He reminds Reita of a star nosed mole, which would have made him laugh had he had the patience. The guy's face is red with blood like war paint and his teeth are bared in an ugly snarl. He screams something at Reita that he cannot understand and runs clumsily toward him. _

_Reita exhales again, knowing what he has to do. He does not want to, but he has no time to be messing around. His motion is lightning fast, as it always is when he has to defend himself, or the times where he has had to defend his colleagues. Pocket, flick, stab. _

_The guy lets out a surprised grunt as he is stopped by his blade. Reita does it almost with reverence; holding the guy like he would a lover, with one of his arms around his waist. The other of course, is grasped tightly around the ivory handle of his switchblade. The smells of sweat, blood and rancid vinegar are all around him and he swallows a cough. He pushes the guy back not quite as respectfully and he lands in a heap; his lifeless eyes reflecting the darkening sky. His comrade sees them from his home on this floor and screams; his bloody mouth open, like a yawning maw. He feels guilty, but not enough to give up any more time for either of them and he runs until his veins are pumping acid._

_To his surprise, he reaches his home with no other trouble. He has not cleaned the blood from his knife before he placed it back into his pocket and the back of his thighs feel sticky. He is reminded with understandable distaste of menstruation. He's very skinny and very pale right now; old far beyond his years in physical and mental abuse, self inflicted or otherwise. His mind is currently mush, or feels that way; from fear, exhaustion and his Old Friend, Mr Cravings, who he loves and loathes at the same time, nagging him. He hurts him and tells him to steal, to cheat and to lie, but he always stands by him during the Rush. The Rush is their true love. Reita Suzuki's true love. A love he wants to feel is more real than anything else he knows and has ever known, because, selfishly, it makes things that little bit easier for him-_

_(Megumi Megumi oh God)_

_He has planned conversely, however, to destroy his relationship with his Old Friend for a long time due to the self-loathing that Mr Cravings always brings upon him; but his will is long gone and his time right now is, rather likely, to be very, very short. He will be killed long before his seventeenth birthday, but he does not care. He fears the pain, is all. _

_The skinny, pale boy who is Reita Suzuki shivers in the cold wind, alone with his memories. There are circles under his eyes as purplish-red as the marks around his nose, which he hates but cannot hide. His back is scabbed over and bleeding from the week before; with the marks of love and fraternity that they have scraped upon him with ink and needles. He almost laughs about how much things have changed between them. There is no humour in it, really, but the disbelief and disgust he has for them and himself somehow manages to form a resembling cough that bursts from his throat like the blood from the punk's nose. _

_He takes a deep breath and knocks on the door of the stately town house belonging to his family; the only pleasing contradiction in this squalid neighbourhood where he used to belong. His father, after all, is in this with him. He hopes that he has gotten to him in time to tell him the good news. That he will take the blame for it all and suffer the inevitable repercussions that the Souma-Kai will deliver upon him. It may have been his father's idea, but he was the one who committed the act. He loves his father; as much as he does the Rush and has hates him as much as he does his shitty lifestyle and constant fear, but the good feeling outweighs the bad due to his stately conscience; though he snorts at the idea. He does not want him to have to suffer the same fate._

_Nobody answers the door; but they do not have to, as his knocking causes it to open with a smooth squeaking sound. This makes his nightmares a reality, because he knows that he is too late. This fact, however, does not bother him; in that he knows that when he walks in there, or tries to run, that he will be taken or killed. No, it is more the gut wrenching horror of knowing that he will have to go inside and see what they have done to his family. He understands this because he has not only premature wisdom, but an exceptionally gifted mind behind the mush that is his current brain. He can **sense** it. It is not exactly a smell; more of a feeling that hangs in the air like an unwholesome miasma. The house is soundless aside from the clunks of his heavy-duty Doc Martens. He is reminded of Simon and Garfunkel's song, **The Sound of Silence**._

_As he expects, they are in the living room, as they usually are. But the scene is wrong. Very wrong. He does not breathe or move; he is frozen. As lifeless as the scene before his eyes. He cannot scream- not yet. Only see... and see and see. _

_There is no blood at all. If one were to simply glance in the room briefly, they would just think that the three of them were simply sitting normally. He observes the room in helpless horror; his features alive with a horrible grin, his hand mindlessly coming up to his mouth. He is not glancing briefly; he is seeing. **Absorbing**. It is worming its way into the mush and settling there like a dreadful, chilled fluid._

_They are together, his mother, father and sister- and they are unmistakably dead. Their eyes are glassy and lifeless, like Skullcap's after he stabbed him. It is a new kind of death, a disgusting death that he has never seen before. It is not like Megumi's- spontaneous and bloody. It is planned, careful and chosen specifically. To torment him. They know this and they are here, but before they close in for him, Reita finds his voice._

_He howls like he will in every dream, every nightmare that he will have for the rest of his life. It is an eerie sound; a frightening sound, like a wounded, heartbroken animal. He does not want them to have the pleasure of hearing him scream, but the sound comes out beyond his will and he screams and screams until Boss Kiriyama comes behind him and strikes him, hard, on the back of the head. It could only be Kiriyama, because he likes doing things personally and Reita knows that he is the one whom the Boss has a bone to pick. A fucking **big **one. _

_As Reita Suzuki's head explodes with pain and his vision goes black, a clump of ash falls from the end of his father's burning cigar and settles on the green carpet in a greyish pile._

_

* * *

_**A/N: I apologise immensely for taking thousands of years to update- but I've had tons of work XP Thank you all for being patient and not yelling at me for taking ages XD**


	26. 25: Saturday Night's Alright

Kai did not go to his room, or back to the one from which he left. Rather, he left the house entirely. He would have showered first to get rid of the dirty feeling that his thoughts had brought upon him, like a thin layer of scum on his skin, but he felt he couldn't spend another minute around Ruki... or, well, _any_ of the others, really.

He _had_ to get out of there.

He went without saying goodbye; leaving no clues as to where he was going, who with, or why. He was quiet as he left, like a cat, so much so that the door made virtually no noise upon closure. He felt like a drink, or something like that. A long, hard drink. Where from, he didn't know and he didn't care. He needed a drink and he needed a fuck. The former, because he wanted to forget his current troubles with something to bend his mind. The latter he also knew he needed equally as badly, but he himself was unsure as to why he did. A psychologist who had the opportunity to study Kai Yutaka's mind would have told him several reasons why he felt so; reasons involving paranoia, insecurity, egocentricity- and, most prominently, sexuality- but there was no psychologist; only Kai, alone with his perpetual panic. And, a lone young man on the streets of suburban Tokyo was almost certain to run into trouble, if he wasn't careful; but this fact, however, was the last thing on Kai's mind.

Instead, he imagined Ruki, temper as fiery as his ruby hair and shuddered violently. What had he been thinking? He depicted him more intensely, with his awful habit of biting his toenails and Kai's brief initial sexual attraction dissolved like dandelion seeds in a summer breeze. He felt like laughing about how ridiculous he had been and thought about turning back and apologising, but even though he'd had somewhat of a revelation, the idea still seemed unnerving to him. He didn't feel he could go back just yet, or even any time that night. He needed some time and pleasantries first.

Kai smirked to himself and texted a girl he knew fancied him. Mimi was off limits for the next several weeks at least because of what had happened at the party, but that was fine by Kai. Unusually however, he was actually feeling guilty about he was about to do. Women came and went around him; he was open to them and he ran a give-and-take system where nobody got hurt unless they pulled the whole 'commitment' thing. It had been a good system ever since he was fifteen and it had fared him well since then; he'd never committed to anyone and that was fine, thank you very much. His initial reasons had been inadequate at best, along the lines of youth and false soul-searching, or, at least the reasons that his brain was capable of admitting to itself. What it wasn't capable of admitting was the blatant fact that they were excuses and it was looking like Ruki's words, somehow, had cracked open Kai's nice little bottle of suppressed feelings.

However, he hadn't realised this, or at least, not enough to stop him. So he texted a girl he knew called Sadako Tendo and invited her out for a drink with him in Baru Ba; a shot bar opposite the Starbucks they both worked in and, also, where they had both met each other. She was a nice, pretty, bubbly girl who was warming company and who most guys would have been delighted to stay with, but to Kai she was currently his tool. This was unfair and cruel to her, but Kai Yutaka was more than a little messed up.

He told her half an hour and put a wink at the end of the text along with two extra kisses. She'd flirted endlessly with him in work and he with her; even though he probably on hindsight shouldn't have. Sure enough, he got an immediate text back. She would be there, she said. Kai hadn't doubted that for a second and he repocketed his phone with a glint in his eye.

Two hours and at least thirty units later, they were messing around in the back alley behind Baru Ba. She was topless and hot as hell, but something still didn't feel right. He tried to protest, explain his feelings in a kind of fearful, worried way, but every time he tried to talk, she slid her tongue inside his mouth. He couldn't blame her really; his reputation was fairly notorious and she'd liked him for ages, so he tried to get into the mood of things. He honestly thought he did- normally he'd have done the deed in minutes and the both of them would have been on their merry way, foreplay or no foreplay- but now he was trying his hottest tricks to get himself going. It was an empowering feeling as she moaned and cried and whined like a bitch in heat as his fingers and tongue flicked, teased and thrusted. Kai, like any man, liked that power- but it proved to not have been enough, because as she unzipped his cords, pink, gasping and ravenous, his dick was limp and lifeless.

They, of course, exchanged their apologies to each other and Kai explained in a panicked way that it was unlike him, it wasn't her and he didn't know why it was happening. She said she understood, but something in her eyes; a touch of hurt, maybe, told Kai that she didn't quite believe him. They tried for a little while, but nothing seemed to work, so they dressed in silence. Kai bought her the cab fare home to make up for it, even though he was broke and she left with a grateful but worried look on her face. Kai didn't go home, though. He staggered up to the bar, paid them far too much for the full bottle of whiskey they had under the counter and spent the night in the alley with it.

_Only fitting that a failure should be amongst his failures._

* * *

Aoi Shiroyama took a long toke of the Malboro Red he'd lit from a fresh pack and passed it to Taeko Hanabishi, almost lazily. She wasn't a smoker, but she took a toke anyway; the musty, almost acrid taste filling her mouth and entering her lungs. It was an almost sweet taste; as sweet as it was deadly, but she didn't care even the slightest. It felt as if nothing right then mattered at all. She ought to feel selfish, really, for not worrying as much as she felt she should have over Yuki-San. Taeko felt that she'd almost turned Yuki's hardship upon herself, for sympathy, perhaps. Surely that was wrong of her?

She shivered a little involuntarily and felt foolish. She was going to be alright. Yuki had said that she was going to be alright. She never lied, she never needed to- she was always so sure of herself and in others to hedge around the truth. Why would it be different this time? Taeko realised that she was asking herself a question that was only apt on troubling her, but hopelessly thought of it nonetheless. Aoi sensed her movement and sidled up closer to her.

"What's wrong?" Aoi asked, his messy black hair framing his worried face. Taeko looked around at him, with a smile. He needed a comb.

"Nothing," she lied, "it's fine. Really."

"Are you cold?" He whispered to her, even though there was no real need. They were the only two in the house. The only person who knew that Taeko had company was the unfortunate woman next door who had banged and yelled several times for quiet, but to no avail. Taeko also felt guilty about that, too.

"A little," she replied quickly, eager to change the subject. If Yuki didn't come back, Taeko reasoned with herself, she would call Miro and Ai. Call them both and they would go looking for her together. Yes, that would make more sense.

Aoi put his arms around her. Taeko was charmed by it, actually. She shuffled a little, feeling uncomfortable. The act itself wasn't unpleasant- very far from it- but it wasn't a meaningless act, which was what made her feel odd and suffocated. It was the kind of action that a person didn't perform if they just thought you were just 'easy' and nothing more. Taeko hadn't thought for a second that Aoi had actually thought _that_ about her; regardless of the way she'd acted around him. It was something in his eyes and motions that showed that he really cared. This didn't particularly scare Taeko- she liked to be cared for. What_ scared_ Taeko was that she was beginning to feel that she cared back for_ him_.

_You can't, you mustn't-_

Aoi cut through Taeko's thoughts like a knife through butter, before they trailed back to nightmarish memories, which, later on, she would feel insatiably grateful. Nonetheless, what he was about to say kept her up all that night, anyway.

"Taeko..." Aoi started, before pausing and uttering a short laugh, "I have to tell you something, honestly, but you have to promise that you won't freak out on me, okay?"

Taeko knew what was coming. She also knew that if he said what he was going to say, she was going to have to cut him out of her life. She didn't want to. Hell, she didn't want to, she never did-

_Only,_ she thought_, in this case, which pain would be worse?_

"Fire away," she replied, her tone unsteady. Unsteady, but not as much as it usually was when coming face to face with situations like this one. She felt, in a sick sort of way, almost proud of herself. She took another toke of the cigarette and tried not to splutter. Right then and there, she needed it.

"I..." Aoi trailed off. Taeko couldn't see him, but she could tell that he was fidgety and sweating. A caricature, almost, of his graceful, former, almost demonic self. She had thought of him as a- Warlock? Vampire?- _Valkyrie_, yes, that was it. She was surprised how, in retrospect, suitable the term actually was. Of course, it was stupid of her to think of a stunning person such as Aoi as an actual mythical creature, but the poetic side of her could not get enough of the idea, or the fact that she cared for him. These were things she had fought hard for a long time to avoid and at that moment, she was more frightened than she had been in twelve years.

"I like you," he finished softly, his husky voice resonating warmly by her ear, "I really do. I know it's like soon and all- well, I guess, a little- but I was wondering if you'd consider, well... you know."

There was silence as Aoi trailed off again, for a long time and he felt his heart, which had been so happy before then, sinking lower and lower in his chest as if it were made of hardened granite. It was an unpleasant feeling, as if someone had sucked all the air out of his insides with a slow, invisible punch. He began to feel as if he'd made some terrible mistake and thought for a moment about apologising and saying he was being silly, he was rushing things, just anything, _anything_-

While their conversation took place, they were both together on Taeko's futon, both naked as the day they were born and as sated as any young couple could be after two hours of having a free house together and being about as sexually compatible as you could get. Taeko didn't have enough fingers to count the number of times she'd come that night and Aoi doubted he did, either. They were both a voluptuous mess, Taeko especially, still pink and breathless from their last encounter which had ended only seconds after Aoi had lit up- literally, anyway. The air in the room wasn't cold, fairly understandably considering what had gone on fairly consecutively for the last one hundred and twenty minutes or so, but Taeko was still quivering as if she'd been dunked in a barrel of cold water.

_You have to Taeko, you have to-_

"I can't."

Her voice was small, but it couldn't have made more of an impact on Aoi if she had screamed. Her two words stabbed him in the chest like a couple of iron spikes and a choking noise of pain came from his throat. Taeko didn't turn to face him, but she could hear it. She could hear it and she felt guilty again.

_Please, I don't want to let him go, don't make me, he's different-_

"Why?" He asked her, his soft voice smooth, but with unmistakeable notes of sadness.

_See, he's different, you can't make me, he cares, he CARES-_

"I just..." she searched for a word, but nothing came up, "_can't_. It's not because I don't want to, or that I don't like you. I _do_. It's just impossible for me right now and let's leave it at that, alright?"

She felt impossibly cold for saying all of this without facing him, so she turned around so that she could see his face and the sickening feeling of being punched came to her this time, so much so that when his visage came into view, she almost choked. Curiosity and concern were there, of course, because Aoi Shiroyama was a nice guy-

(They're all nice at first though, aren't they?)

- but she could see the pain in it and pain, there was plenty. She felt astoundingly horrible, saying what she had to him, but his eyes were searching her vigorously, trying to find a cure for whatever agonies she might have. Bless him- he was trying to help. Taeko wanted to laugh at that, but it would have, although she would not have meant it to sound so, almost certainly come across as cruel.

"Be that as it may," he said, finally, after some thought, "I can't _not _see you, if you say you still want me around. I fucking can't do that- I'll go mad. But if you don't want me here, tell me now and I'll go mad, anyway. Because I'd rather you were happy in whatever you choose- and I'd consider the time I got to know you as my 'Good Ol' Sane' days."

Taeko giggled. She looked into his eyes and a spark of happiness jumped over the pain like a miniature lightning flash. She couldn't say no. Her mind was telling her to, that all of this was dangerous and she was risking herself, but she couldn't and wouldn't. She made up her mind long before she opened her mouth to reply, choosing her words perhaps not as delicately as she felt she should have.

"We could stay friends," she finalised, touching his face, "but be free to roam, you know? Be together, but be apart, if you get my drift?"

"So, put in layman's terms, fuckbuddies?"

She smiled, a little sadly. "I guess. If it's not good enough for you, I more than understand."

Aoi shrugged. He wasn't happy about it. A lot of guys would have been- Kai, would have, of course-

(Wonder where he is now?)

-but he really, really wasn't. He did not, however, tell her this. Nor did he let it show on his face. Instead, he slid his arm around her a little more, wishing an awful lot of things. Like how he wished that she'd said yes, how- for some stupid reason- he wished the rain outside would stop, those kinds of thoughts. 'Deep' thoughts for a thoughtful guy. But Aoi didn't tell her those things, either. He just looked back at her and smiled.

"Guess it'll have to be."

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry this took so long! I had my English project due this week and it was an absolute nightmare to do! I'm going to update more this week to reward you all for being amazingly patient with me XD**


	27. 26: The Cage

After Uruha and Ai finished their meal with a discount from Frieda, they went for a walk. It was difficult to be sentimental and sensitive in Denny's, which, although rather bare of customers, had its vast share of loud noises which were endlessly distracting and offputting. The rain was still fairly strong, but it was beginning, trickle by trickle, to ease off a little. Thankfully, the night air wasn't too cold or else Kai, unbeknownst to them a couple of miles or so away, would have caught hypothermia. The two of them strolled side by side, respecting each other as friends rather than the brief lovers they had been; although neither of them wanted as such to be the case. But both Ai and Uruha were conscientious people who were apprehensive about crossing any sort of barrier and tended to avoid doing so, if at all possible, so the situation to the both of them was indeed a little frustrating, but nevertheless unsurprising.

For the first time that night, a beam of silvery moonlight broke out between the rainclouds like an elegant claymore and sliced its way across the span of the pond. Its initial, bladelike sharpness became muted through the rippling, rain-disturbed pond waters and the image bobbed up and down on the small, black waves. It was a view that, as well as being beautiful, was also somewhat strange- _creepy_ almost. Ai looked at the black, churning waters and an unpleasant feeling crept into her stomach.

Uruha took off his jacket and laid it across the bench opposite the strange view of the moon-blade; the mock-satin lining facing upwards. Ai smiled at the gesture and sat down gratefully on it, although she was fairly soaked anyway, considering that she hadn't brought a coat. A drunken tramp staggered alongside the pond for a short while before looking over at them. Neither of them were looking his way, so he murmured something about angels and fell over in slumber behind a shrub. Ai jumped at the noise and looked around worriedly for a moment or two, but Uruha stroked her arm reassuringly.

"Do you want to go home?" He asked.

Ai shook her head and continued looking over the water. Some of the Tokyo skyline was visible over the fence on the opposite side of the park in a bright, glowing halo. She rested her head on his shoulder, breaking out of her comfort barrier a little. She felt like a young girl again, which was strange, considering the fact that she was pregnant with her own child.

"Do you..." Ai faltered, trying to think of how to phrase it.

"What?"

"Do you, well, remember _anything_ from when we first met?"

Uruha chuckled a little, but not in a belittling way. It was more a gesture of good humour than anything else and Ai found herself smiling again. He picked up a small chunk of gravel which someone had broken off the path with a bat or a similarly blunt object and threw in across the pond. Ai half expected it to bounce, but instead it landed with a charismatic plop in the black froth. Ru sighed gently and leant back a little.

"Never really got the hang of doing that when I was a kid," he replied, not looking at her, "My friend Aoi, the guy you met in Denny's before, he's amazing at it. He once managed nine bounces when we went on holiday to Ibusuki last year, during the summer. You know, where the hot springs are?"

Not seeing how this was relevant to answering her question but of course, far too polite to say so, Ai nodded again, her eyes on the patch of water in the pond where the stone had landed. The ripples were fading into ghosts on the water's surface, losing the battle against the falling drops of rain. She leant forward on her hands, cupping her chin in her palms; another thing she liked to do when she was thinking but, instead, she was trying hard to listen.

"It was great," Ru continued with a laugh, "best summer of my life. My cousins run a ryokan, a bit like Yuki-san's, over there; about 100 metres from the beach. Their cooking wasn't as great as Yuki's though, so they used to just tell us the best places to go out and eat, or we'd help them out with their recipes. Sometimes we'd even go and catch our own food in Unagi Lake. We used to take the Honda up there, on the warmest days, rent a canoe if we wanted to race each other and fish, or just an ordinary fishing boat if we were feeling lazier. We tended to go after a more humid or rainy day so we'd have bait ready, which was cheaper than buying it from the store. Bait's easier to dig up when it's damp, as the ground softens and worms tend to rise to the surface more often than when it's dry. I'd fished there before as a kid, so I ended up teaching the others how to bait and so on."

"Did you catch anything?" Ai asked, interested and longing. She wished she'd done those things when she was younger; just once, instead of 'Camp Christ', or the other shit places her parents had sent her to for the purposes of spiritual 'enlightenment', no-blasphemy-intended-oh-Lord. She undid the straps on her Choos and kicked them off, flinching a little at the relief and ran her sore feet through the cool, damp grass. Gel cushions never, ever seemed to work for her and it was annoying.

Uruha laughed, a bit louder this time. "Course we did," he said, grinning, "I must've eaten pretty much an entire fishmonger that summer. Unagi Lake has its name for a reason you know- in that you can catch the biggest and the best eel there. Kai fell in one day trying to wrestle one into the boat and came up with leeches all over his feet. He had to wear waterproof socks for the rest of the summer to make sure they healed and he didn't scratch them. You can imagine the sight of him on the beach- walking along in Speedos, shades and waterproof socks. My cousin Ryu called him 'skipper' for the rest of the summer we stayed there. "

Ai giggled, imagining. Uruha smiled briefly at her and sighed again.

"I wish I remembered," He told Ai, reverting back to the initial subject, "I wish I did- at least then, in some sense, I'd feel better about everything. Like I could almost pay you back something that I owed you. I don't feel like I'm ready for any of this, which I know is selfish and all. I guess I'm human in wishing that I was back in my childhood days when things were easier. But I'm not, never will be again and I'd be a shitty human being if I turned my back on you, so I won't."

Aisha's stomach lurched horribly, but she felt happy regardless. Ignoring her regular rule of barrier due to the fact that he had been so nice to her and looked so sad, she took his hand, her toffee hair wet and tangled over her shoulders. He seemed to look appreciative of it, so she kissed him gently on the cheek, brushing a few loose strands away from his cheekbones.

The lurching worsened and she turned, gagging, to face the other way. Uruha's muscles tensed into a state of inertia as she threw up violently onto the grass. When she was done, after a minute or so, they seemed to find life and he moved to turn her around, feeling wretched. Her brown eyes were half-shut and glazed, her mouth vacant and expressionless. She reached up, as if blind, to touch his shoulder, but her hand fell away weakly by her side instead. Her face was mask-pale and her eyes, initially half-closed, had shut entirely.

Panic gripped Ru in short bursts and waves as he looked around; unsure whether or not to scream for help. He touched her forehead with the back of his hand, checking, but she was not warm, thankfully. He felt absurdly irresponsible; asking her to come out and walk in the rain due to what could have happened, but thankfully, it seemed as if God was pitying rather than punishing the stupid that night.

"Ai," he whispered, shaking her gently, "Ai!"

Her eyes fluttered open a little and she smiled at him, giving him a look that said: _Take me home, please take me home. I'm tired, but don't worry, I'll be alright_. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no sounds came out or were audible, except the noises of a rogue heron by the pond on a family trip to the city, where pollution never slept. The shadows under her eyes which Ru had barely noticed earlier were deep and bruise-like, as if painted there by a clumsy dollmaker.

Ru picked Aisha up gently in his arms, handling her with the same care which he had the first time and began the short walk towards his accord, which was parked a short distance up the street. He realised then that she was likely ill because of being pregnant and nothing more, but he wanted to be sure first.

_Take her back home, to Yuki_, he thought whilst jogging with her, _she'll know what to do_.

His car came into view a few moments later and Ru lay her down on the back seat. He opened the trunk and took out the insulation blanket his father had made him keep in there for emergencies involving ice-and-snow breakdowns. He wrapped it around Ai liberally, to keep her warm and wrinkled his nose a little whilst doing so. It smelt of gasoline and road tar, but it was all he had. He hoped that it wouldn't make her feel worse and strapped her down as best he could, keeping her on her side just to make sure.

_If all else fails_, he thought to himself as he got in, _call Doctor Dad_.

He floored the gas and pulled out from the kerb sharply, causing a squeal of tyres and a nasty smell of burning rubber. Ai, although rattled around, did not stir at all.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry if this chapter's not amazingly exciting, but I had to do _something_ with Uruha and Ai :P The next two chapters will be Reita/Ruki/Miro chapters and some more of the plot will come into play XD**


	28. 27: The Unforgiven I

I guess you could say that the trouble really began for everyone that night, looking back on it. Whether it was Uruha and Ai's decision to stay together even if they were unsure about themselves, Kai realising the truth, Ruki's suppressed feelings, Taeko's treatment of Aoi or Yuki's prognosis (I'll get to that later) that set the course of events for that year, I'm not too sure. It was probably a combination of all of those things, but I think the one thing that really set things off for everyone was what was happened to me and Reita that night.

Memory's a funny thing. Sometimes your thoughts and feelings from the times you've had kind of curl up at the corners, like yellowed pages from old books and the text or meaning in them just fades away to nothing, or to false memories which are caricatures or lies which cloud the truth. But sometimes, just sometimes, you get those memories which just stay there and never fade; like Armstrong's footprints on the moon. They're as clear and as vivid when you're eighty as if it were the day after it happened and this, starting from when me and Reita staggered out of the pub in the very early morning holding onto each other for dear life and balance, laughing like a couple of maniacs, is one of those memories. I don't expect it shall fade anytime soon; nor do I want it to, because it has taught me a great many things.

"... so you did what!?" Rei cackled in an excitable voice; slumping over on the wall outside. I giggled, dragging a clumsy index across his lips.

"I told them th-hey could stuff it!" I announced triumphantly, although unsure what we had been talking about before we left. I was dimly aware of the amount that I had drank but I was still somewhat determined to be as charming as I could to Reita, who smiled casually at me.

I suddenly then realised how close we were on that wall, to each other. I could feel the rhythm of his breath moving my hair, its welcoming chill causing my cheek to gooseflesh. I tried my best to stop doing what many drunk people do, by having no focus or concentration in their respective vision or mind and looked into Reita's soulful dark eyes. He touched my cheek; the back of his alabaster hand tracing a cool band on my skin.

"You look really pretty tonight, Miro," he whispered.

"Th-thanks," I slur-stuttered, feeling rather stupid for doing so. I should have probably been silent and let him kiss me before saying something dumb, as I always tend to, but as it turned out, he did anyway.

It shocked me a little at first, as it generally does when someone does something which you don't quite expect them to after making a fool of yourself, but I remember that it didn't take long before I really got into it, because he was good at it. He took short breaths between each movement, the scents of masculinity and Calvin Klein 'One' welcoming in his closeness. He was a gentleman with his hands, which he raked gently along my back as we came together, but he did not go further than that, which I remembered thinking at the time was exceedingly sweet, but frustrating. It was an act with such a combination of elegance and clumsiness so intense to me, that I didn't even hear the approaching Harley engines, when they came.

But Reita did. I don't think it was because he wasn't particularly into kissing me, or anything like that. I think it was more to do with the fact that the noise was just, well, one of _those_ memories.

As soon as he heard the buzz, he pulled away and pushed me over the wall. He would tell me afterward about how he knew it was them due to the number of bikes he could hear. You could tell, he later said, by the 'Doppler Effect' each one made, because they always rode in the same pattern; one first, two in a line close behind and two a little further back, in a sort of 'incomplete', to quote Reita, 'fucked-up triangle'. I would have been amazed that he could hear such distinctions, had it been the most incredible thing I'd learned that night, but it wasn't. For I was about to learn exactly who Reita Suzuki was, or, had been.

Because the shock was so much to me, being kissed and then being thrown over a wall (be it three feet high or whatever), I didn't register the pain my head made as it struck the concrete patio, nor the quiet crunch my shoulder made as it made contact with a rock. I remember being confused that there should be a rock in an abandoned shipyard, to which we had wandered after coming out of Biru Futatsu some time before, for some ludicrous reason that God only knows. I lay there in silence instead, my body as rigid as a board and the ghosts of pain nipping at my bones, but being only minor irritants at best. Reita did not look back at me, but I heard his sharp whisper and knew he was still there.

"Don't make a sound," Reita told me harshly, "And, whatever you do, stay the fuck down."

I could hear the Harleys now. My Dad owns one, but I remember not thinking that at the time. I was thinking, confused as fuck, about whether or not I should obey or run. Much as I liked Reita, I didn't want to be dragged into any trouble with him, either. My phone vibrated in my pocket, its little buzz a drowned competitor in the race of noise. I couldn't see in my current position, curled into a frightened, silent ball; but I could hear and, drunk or not, I didn't have any trouble interpreting anything.

The noise went from a loud buzz to a deafening roar, which quietened after half a minute when each bike fell silent after a spray of gravel and its owner got off. A dim smell of stale sweat and grease meandered through the air, making my nostrils twitch. It was a masculine smell, yes, but it was nothing like Reita's scent, at all. It was an odour that reminded me of testosterone and crime and I had to cover my mouth to keep from coughing, due to an unpleasant mix of fear and revulsion. The five of them had formed a circle around Reita which I could not yet see. We would discuss all of this later in the motel across the road, after they had left and I remember thinking later that it seemed that it had gone on far, far longer in our minds than in reality.

They called themselves Alice and the Nines, which they depicted on the back of their leather jackets; the word 'Alice' in blue, curly lettering and the number '9' in white, gothic-style font, like the kind on cards. The reasons for their name were relatively simple. Alice, because they were capable of taking you to Wonderland and back with the stuff that they could get you. Guns, knives, drugs, money- you name it, they had it. They could even get you cheap thrills if you wanted. Hiroto Ogata, being the best looking and most willing out of them all, was usually the chosen advocate for the job and he could make thousands a night selling himself; cash that they would all pool together and devour like hyenas on a bloody carcass. They had a business in everything and anything and they'd just about committed every violent crime on the list; whether it was during a job or just for fun. They weren't Yakuza strictly, because they didn't like getting themselves involved too deep in anything, but they were close friends with them, due to the skills they possessed. Hired hands, you could say, who (as far as Reita knew) enjoyed the benefit of protection from the Souma-Kai, one of the roughest and most notorious mafia families.

Oh, how Reita knew _that_ to be true.

But they didn't really _need _protection, because the second part of their name stemmed from the somewhat unnerving fact that each of them carried a Colt 9mm and weren't afraid to use it. Reita had seen Shou drop a cap into some guy's leg just for looking at him funny in the street. Shou Kohara was the only one out of them Reita was particularly worried about, because he was crazy. _Really_ crazy. Not good crazy, either- _cruel _crazy- but it meant that nobody in the gang he led dared go against him, for fear of having a set of bullets for teeth. No surprise really, that he was the one who approached Reita with a smile that could easily, by anyone, have been misinterpreted as friendly. Reita however, knew far better and he arranged his body into a stance that was subtly defensive as Shou sauntered up to him; the others in a similar cocky pursuit.

"Oh, Reita dear," Shou said, with syrupy sweetness, "it's been a while, hasn't it? How've you been these days?"

Reita grunted, not looking at Shou in the face. Not that there was anything wrong with it, of course. The majority of them all, in fact, could have been good-looking boys if they cleaned themselves off and Shou was no exception, but Reita didn't want to give him ammunition, no pun intended.

"Well," Shou said with a babyish tone, rolling his childlike brown eyes upward to the sky, "I suppose mother said it was rude not to stare-"

"-but isn't it also rude to ignore someone when they talk to you?" Saga chimed in, with a wicked glint in his eye. Reita glared at him angrily, to which he sniffed.

Saga Sakamoto was the pretty, petty thief of the group, who had a pair of the most nimble hands that Reita had ever come across. Reita himself had been a thief for a while as a kid during his training and hadn't been too bad at it, but Saga put him to shame. He pickpocketed anyone, at any place at any time and Rei couldn't think of a single occasion when he'd gotten caught. He must have done though, because he'd done a fair bit of time over the years in Juvie. Reita, again, knew this because he'd been in there with him and the majority of the others. He knew things that he didn't even think Shou knew about Saga, like the fact that he was gay as a rainbow-filled cream and cherry pie, for which his nimble hands proved useful and spent a lot of his time, when he wasn't stealing or doing jobs for Shou, fucking Nao Murai; who acted as a combination between a spy and a grass. They covered it pretty well, actually; Nao was standing over by Hiroto and they hadn't exchanged glances since they got off their bikes. He doubted Shou would have _really _cared, as the two of them did their jobs and did them well, but you could never be too careful around him.

"I would say so," said Shou, his sweet voice turning foul, "wouldn't you all?"

A chorus of 'yes' echoed up and quickly died down and Reita saw Shou, out of the corner of his eye, reach into his pocket. He looked up as quickly as he could to reciprocate, but Tora grabbed his arms before he could move. Strong, silent Tora Amano; the Nines' bodyguard on jobs and occasional hitman if someone asked or, worse, didn't pay. Reita struggled against his grasp and tried to kick him in the balls from behind and missed, so Tora tightened his grasp on his arms in revenge. Reita felt a nasty grinding in the upper bones of his arm followed by a rusty bout of pain and he bit his lip to keep from crying out. He felt the corners of his eyes beginning to leak and shamefully hated himself for it. He glared at Shou, who rolled his eyes and Hiroto laughed; a crazed, animalistic squawk that rang around the silent shipyard.

_What's wrong with me, _thought Reita,_ why am I so weak?_

"For fuck's sake, Reita," sighed Shou, "hold still. We only want to talk, is all. Is that so much to ask?"

"Sure," Reita snorted, "sure it is. If you're being so friendly, then why don't you let me go?"

Shou guffawed sarcastically, but there was no humour in it, at all. Reita knew why Shou didn't trust him, but just to reiterate the message, Shou lifted up his greasy brown-blonde fringe. Reita didn't need to look to know what was there; a long silver scar, made by a slash by Reita's switchblade, across the right side of his forehead. He'd made it to get away from Shou when he'd tried to 'talk some sense into him' and was not in the least bit sorry.

"Search him," Shou told Saga, who obeyed with grim pleasure.

"Shoddy behaviour really, from my best customer, friend and associate," Shou continued, mocking Reita by looking at his nails in false vanity while Saga felt him for weapons, "It's been a while since then though, hasn't it? How long, Hiroto?"

"Two years," said Hiroto, glaring angrily at Reita, his looks to rival Uruha's smeared with unkempt makeup.

_Whore_, he thought, feeling an obscure need to laugh, but didn't dare.

"Oh yeah!" Shou cried with false excitement clicking his fingers. The falseness faded rapidly, leaving an expression behind of dark rage, "That's right."

Before Reita could cry out, Saga pulled out and, quick as a whip, Shou's face was inches from his; the cold of his switchblade etching cruelly into his neck, which, in a twist of irony, Reita had bought specially for him on some stupid occasion long ago. So far I had heard everything, but I did not hear the words that Shou whispered to Reita. He told me about them later and it was just as well I hadn't heard, because I would probably have screamed.

"Let's see if I can make you dance, motherfucker," Shou whispered, furiously.

* * *

**A/N: This chapter's gonna be a two-parter, or else it would be really long. I'm writing the next bit as we speak, so it's gonna be up later or tomorrow at the very latest :)**


	29. 28: The Unforgiven II

Reita had expected a number of things which would make any ordinary human squirm with fright and dread. He had expected Shou, for instance, to jump on him and peel the skin from his bones with the others huddling around in a sickly observant circle of mockery. He had expected him to slice open his throat while popping caps in his knees so he couldn't run. He tried to look as calm as he could, but he was sweating terribly. A hairline slice was forming at the base of Reita's throat where Shou held the knife and it was dribbling blood, but Reita barely felt it, at all.

However, Shou did not do any of those things that Reita thought he would. Instead he did the oddest, strangest, most unlikely thing that Reita had ever expected of him. Not only did Shou pull the knife away, but he laughed. Not mocking, threatening laughter either- _humorous_ laughter. It was shrill, high pitched and somewhat maniacal, but for Shou, who was virtually a fully-fledged sociopath, it was pretty much the closest you could get to wholehearted chuckles. Reita told me later that he remembered thinking that either a clown had gone past naked on a unicycle up in flames, or that there was something more to this situation that met the eye, which, he said was a 'pretty unexpected feat' for the Nines- particularly because they weren't generally the negotiable kind, for obvious reasons.

In my silent little ball, my confusion had escalated, understandably, quite enormously. I had been fearful in that long stretch of silence. Although I had not heard Shou's awful whisper, I was aware enough to know that silence wasn't at all a good thing. Laying there, shivering, I feared for Reita's life and what they were about to do to him. For a couple of seconds in fact after it happened, it didn't actually register to me and I just stared at the wall, dumbfounded at the noise he was making; the near-insane young man who shared the same name as my elder brother. But after a while, the meaning of the sound sunk into me like a cold icicle, numbing my spine. I remember being far more scared than I was before of the people that Reita was currently dealing with and I had to stuff my fist into my mouth to cover up my muffled sobs.

(_Please God oh God let them go and leave us alone_)

"Oh Rei, ol' buddy boy," said Shou at last, after his laughs had ceased, "come _on_. Do you honestly think we'd have gone to all this effort of hunting you down just to _kill_ you?"

Rei wanted immensely to say yes; _yes_, oh God and Mary, _yes_- and suddenly got reminded of Hiroto again who was coming closer to him, platform boots clacking noisily on the gravel and white denim cut-offs riding up his thighs. It was very difficult of him not to make a comment or smile, but he forced himself to remain solemn and still. After all, he'd just been spared his life and he would settle for that quite nicely.

He looked at Shou and forced himself not to gag. Shou was cleaning his blade in the way he did to all of his victims, by licking off the blood and swallowing it. He watched Shou helplessly drinking _him_- his mahogany-red fluid staining Shou's lips like coppery cranberry juice- and felt as if some part of his very _soul_ had been smeared on that ebony handled blade. Shou looked as if he was enjoying it vastly (which he indeed was) and a well of cancerous disgust rose inside Reita as he witnessed the grim ritual.

"I'm afraid it's your lucky day," said Hiroto, smirking at Reita's expression of repugnance, "because we've decided we want you back."

The dreadful words latched themselves on Reita's consciousness and for a moment, he believed he was dreaming. A sea of cloudiness engulfed him, with cumulonimbi of confusion and horror. He thought he had misheard- and so had I. I remember feeling similar to Rei in a different way, in that I could not have believed it of him in a million years. My confused sobs became more rapid and successive; each little one hurting my shoulder, which had decided to rise up from its numbness and deliver upon me a new kind of pain.

"What?" Reita asked, which sounded more like a whine than a question. Shou chuckled again and lit up a Mild Seven, his lighter a pewter skull with glowing eyes.

"Yeah, yeah," said Shou, waving his hand erratically in some sort of dismissive gesture, "You weren't really a part of_ us_ back in the good old days we had together, pal, but business hasn't been as booming without your 'help', if you get my drift. So, since we were such good friends back then, what do you say about 'rekindling' our relationship? You know, starting afresh."

Reita couldn't help himself but laugh. He laughed until tears streamed out of his eyes and Tora kneed him in the back hard, causing him to cough in pain. However, Reita's amusement did not affect Shou even in the slightest, as he knew he was going to react that way. He took a long toke of his cigarette and passed the 'clean' knife over to Hiroto, who was standing nearest and nodded to him in a calculated gesture of mutual understanding. Reita thought again for a second that he was going to die and this time, due to the laughs he'd had, he thought it was almost worth it.

"Go on then, faggot," he challenged Hiroto, "Do what you want. I know you've been dying to fuck me for ages, so why not when I'm dead?"

A flash of anger glowed in Hiroto's eyes for a second, but Saga came up to him and touched his back reassuringly. Tora's grip tightened again and Reita felt the circulation cutting off in his arms. Had any of them had been concentrating on the noises around them, they perhaps would have heard my muffled, frightened giggle and caught me there and then, but they didn't.

Not yet.

"Cool it fella," said Saga, his expression blank, "Remember what the knife's for."

Hiroto nodded solemnly, the embers in his eyes dying down and being replaced by a triumphant spark. He brought the blade closer to Reita's face and started to slide it gently, to Reita's immense horror, down the side of his noseband. He tried to raise his hands, harder this time, to bat him away but Tora held tight. He wished now that he hadn't been taken by surprise; he could probably have beaten Tora. Perhaps not in strength, but Rei was a master of self-defence and knew every way of making an opponent squeal. He tried to kick forward and almost achieved hitting Hiroto in the chest, but Nao came round from the back, dove down and grabbed his legs.

"_No!_" Reita screamed, trying to twist away, "_No! Not my face!!! For the love of God please, please not my face!!!!"_

"Shhh," Nao sighed, holding onto his legs for dear life whilst speaking his first words so far tonight to Reita, "Don't make this any more difficult than it has to be."

The noises of the struggle rained down upon me like hailstones and the screams for help began to rise in my throat. I thought, due to Reita's cries; that they must be doing terrible things for him to make the noises that he was making and I grasped for my phone, feeling it slide in my hands, to call the police. To my dismay, the battery, due to my utmost stupidity in neglecting to charge it before I went out, had gone flat after the last vibrate. Giving into temptation, I stole myself the most rapid of looks imaginable over the low wall, caught no visible blood in sight except for a thin red mark on Rei's neck and sat back, hyperventilating. They weren't hurting him that I could see, thankfully.

(_Why is he screaming?_)

I was not aware however, due to the psychological horror which Reita associated with the mark that the Nines were about to reveal, of the advanced case of dysmorphophobia which he suffered from. Reita did not know, as some people with phobias do, that he actually _had_ a condition- he simply put his reasons for wearing his band down to his 'vanity' or 'low self esteem'- but the reality was, that he hated, hated, _hated_ the mark on his face (and for a while, to some extent, the marks on his back) and did not care _who_ it was who approached him, as long as they didn't see it.

"Please," Reita whispered, his breaths coming out in shallow gasps, "Please don't take off my face, for the love of God-"

A car slowed down and they all stopped for a moment, watching it, but the driver either chickened out or thought there wasn't anything wrong, because it quickly went on its way. The result when it left was a hard slap across Rei's face from Shou, which made his neck snap back and his cheek burn like the end of the smouldering butt clamped between Shou's front teeth.

"Shut the _fuck_ up," Shou whispered, growing impatient, "or, so help me God, I will kick you in the balls. Want to see if I'm kidding?"

Reita let out a defeated whimper and I shivered horribly at the sound. He closed his eyes and let Hiroto saw through the thin side-strap of the precious line between his face and the only shield he had against his phobia, which came loose treacherously easily and skittered to the floor. The four of them inhaled when they saw what was under the band in sharp gasps and Shou, somewhat awestruck, poked it gently. Reita whimpered again, flinching at the cool touch of his fingers-

(_They were round her throat, he tried to kill her I saw I saw, Megumi_)

-but Shou withdrew them rapidly; due to some surprising respect he had left for Reita- as well as the puckered texture being truly unpleasant to the touch- and gazed upon him with a look of almost crude concern.

"Jesus Christ, man," Shou said, flicking away the end of his burning cigarette, "they got to you good, didn't they? We're almost _twins _now."

Another cruel laugh rose up between the members of the gang and I fought against trying to take another peek, running my fingers up and down the sides of my legs as if there was something dirty on them. I closed my eyes and tried to think of Yuki and where she was, what I would have been doing had I been back there, etcetera. Thoughts that were reassuring and longing all at once; which, for at least a moment seemed to work, because I found my breath again.

"You happy now?" Reita whispered. His blonde fringe was matted to his forehead and Hiroto looked at it disapprovingly, as if it was unfashionable in some ironic sense. One of Reita's cheeks was flushed where he had been struck and the other was ghost pale and slick with perspiration. Saga looked at him and wondered what it reminded him of, but he failed to recall. It came to him instead later that night, during an orgasm brought on from Nao giving him head, that Reita's face reminded him of the poisoned apple in Snow White; which he thought, given the situation, was somewhat appropriate.

"Quite."

"So," Reita said, his voice gaining a little bit more confidence, "are we done here?"

Shou laughed again. "Oh, hell no. We've not even started. I knew you wouldn't be all too willing to close a deal with us, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to resort to a couple of 'alternate' methods of cooperation."

"T-try me," Reita spat, in an uncomfortable stutter, "Because no matter what the hell you do, I'm never, ever, going back to that life again. _Especially_ not with cocksuckers like you."

There was an uncomfortable pause. Shou's eyes, previously fixed on Rei's determined ones, slid down to the centre of his face. Rei thought he was looking at his scar to torment him again, but when he twitched his nose as a warning, an unexpected sting shot up from the nostril he'd used to snort the coke with the week before. He knew then, that he had no 'case' in Shou's books anymore, if he ever did.

"Oh yeah?" Shou taunted angrily, "Don't bullshit me, Rei. There's a ring under your nose the size of Saturn, for fuck's sake. You're still doing blow."

A quiet gasp escaped me.

When Rei didn't answer due to his humiliation and defeat, Shou sighed. "Rei... if it makes you feel even the slightest bit better, the Souma-Kai hate _us _now about half as much as they hate _you_."

Rei looked at him in disbelief, before letting out a relieved, mocking chuckle.

"So," he said, almost excitedly, "_now _the truth comes out. Take it you want me around as a kind of 'bullet shield' to cover your stupid asses? Count me out, all of you. I'd rather die with dignity."

Shou lost his patience then and grabbed Rei by the arms and shook him furiously, like a ragdoll. Nao and Tora had let go of his arms and legs- so, had Rei been up to it, he could have at least made a good run for it then and there. However, his phobia had inflicted a kind of washy paralysis over him and all he could do was stand there like a vegetable and take it.

"Don't you fucking _get _it yet?" Shou yelled, spraying spit, "We're giving you a goddamned option here, you ungrateful piece of shit-"

"Kohara!" Tora yelled out of the blue to everyone's amazement. Shou immediately silenced and backed down, his position being replaced by Nao, his features awash with a look that was smugly calm.

"A little birdie told me," said Nao, smiling an awful smile, "that Toshio Souma's out in six months. You remember him, don't you?"

Now, you have to remember, this meant nothing at all to me. I had no idea who he was, so I couldn't feel anything except a mild confusion due to the little I knew at the time about who they were talking about. Had I been in Japan around two years previous to my arrival, I may have known something along the lines of what Toshio Souma did for a living, at least, but it wouldn't have affected me mentally any more than an unpleasant worry.

To Reita, however, the case was _far _different. He and Toshio Souma, for reasons I was to find out in the near future, went way, _way_ back. This news did not make Reita worry or panic in the normal, regular sense. They were very dull and inefficient words indeed to describe how Nao's words made him, at that particular moment, feel. A bout of terror, pure, unforgiving terror hit him in the stomach that was so intense that he reared forward, turning pale green. He gagged on it as it consumed him, as a spider does its prey and he vomited impressively in a small puddle just opposite Nao Murai's Newrocks.

"H-h-ho-" Rei tried to say, stuttering so hard with the shock that he couldn't formulate anything coherent, at all. The five of them, again, seemed to be enjoying it immensely and lapped it up like Shou had done to Reita's blood minutes before.

"I'm a spy, idiot," said Nao, looking crazily insulted. Shou stepped forward again to face Reita and kissed him; his well formed yet venomous lips caressing with Reita's in a rape which made Reita feel as if they would, due to the things he knew Shou had done despite his obvious, shameful hypocrisy, blacken and fall off as if they were rotten.

Shou pulled away from Reita's exhausted form after he had finished taking more of him. He licked his lips at the twisted victory and came up with a flavour that he had not expected at all.

(_Cherry rouge?_)

He looked at Reita confusedly for a moment, but it did not take long before his expression changed into one of perfect, total and irrevocable understanding.

Shou Kohara- drug dealer, thief and sociopath- knew I was here.

* * *

**A/N: I had to change some bits in the last chapter to make this work, so you might want to go back and re-read that if you're a bit (and understandably so) confuzzled XD. This part's probably going to last another chapter or two, so I can pull things together properly and introduce part of the main plotline. I know I've left you all hanging, so I'll try and get the next bit up as soon as I can ^^ thank you all for being patient with me, reading and reviewing so far!!! :)**

**N/B: Dysmorphophobia, or body dysmorphic disorder is a phobic obsession with a real or imaginary body defect.**


	30. 29: Animals

Shou wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, dragging away a faint pink smear that had been the residue of my lip-gloss and looked at it for a brief moment, fascinated. It had been faint when it had been on Rei's lips, so he hadn't noticed it until then. He signalled to Tora with a nod of his head. Tora strode up to Rei and grabbed him in his trance, back to his usual silence and looked at Shou reproachfully.

"Find her," Shou commanded the others, "all of you."

A cold shock electrocuted my system and my vision floated before me. Somehow, he knew I was here. Ghastly, muscular convulsions overtook my body in my helpless prison, when suddenly Rei, who previously had been little more than a puppet, found some way of grasping a hold on reality long enough to yell out a low, primitive warning.

"Miro," he roared, fighting weakly against Tora, "_Run_!"

At first, I couldn't move. It was a weird feeling; like when you wake yourself up trying to talk in a dream you're having, when you can't really speak and you can only make groaning noises or similar sounds. But as my attention returned; so did my adrenalin peak and I got up, crouched down and prepared myself for my most likely short-lived dash.

_Better to try before giving in._

Fumes of sweat rose on my body in a disagreeable, tangy aroma and I took a very long, deep breath. Their voices were close now, but I did not look behind me to find out how much so. Instead, I pushed forward on my legs and shot off in a rough, frightened beeline.

Oh course, I was never going to get far. They all saw me immediately and Shou reacted with a smooth, controlled motion to stop people the only way he knew how. He gave his Colt its premiere appearance that night- by firing a warning shot that landed a foot in front of me, which made me scream before freezing on the spot. Looking back, I can't help but consider myself fortunate, in that had Shou not been as accurate, he could have blown one of my legs off or worse.

"Going somewhere?"

I fell forward in a crude stumble and slammed hard against the ground. Agony shot through my left side and pathetic tears welled over in my eyes; spilling themselves on the blackened patch of ground where the bullet had struck, which stank of gunpowder and smoke. I couldn't remember being so afraid in my entire life and I was fully sobbing then in my childish terror.

It was not long until the rapid footsteps ceased behind me and a hand grabbed my hair. Pain jolted through my scalp in flashes; but it was worst in my temple, which I had hurt earlier. I tried to twist away from my subjugator, but he simply held on tighter as he dragged me over to the others. The pain was blinding now and I bit down on my lip to prevent from screaming. My lips were dry and course from the briny excretions trailing their way down my face and telling my captors of my weakness.

The one who restrained me, who I would later know as Hiroto jerked up my head; twisting a long, skinny arm around my neck in a choke hold to bring me face-to-face with Shou himself. I became dimly aware of Reita's presence beside me due to his scent -and felt another horror in understanding that I was being held in such a way that if he were to move his arm upward sharply just a little, he would break my neck like a twig.

My eyes met the leader of the gang's and he smiled at me. I could tell because his presence was arrogant, but although I knew that he was holding a gun which he could use to blow my brains out, I could not help myself in feeling curiously sad as I looked at him. He reminded me of someone I knew and I searched my mind to conjure images which to affiliate with the young man. _My brother_. Yes, that was it. He resembled him immensely and yet he did not; in that he was unhealthily skinny, pale, dirty and had a number of puckered marks up his arms which looked like heroin scars. But he had his eyes, mouth (which, on this particular occasion, were cruelly distorted) and- another thing I would later discover- even his name.

"What's this piece of ass doing with _you_, Razor?" The greasy, brown haired lad asked.

A dark silence followed, before Reita spoke.

"Leave her alone," he whispered, gagging a little as Tora pushed on his ribs. Shou giggled crazily and I found my fear, which had been tamed a little due to his resemblance of my brother, suddenly shoot out; like an evil little jack-in-the-box. I looked at him as he guffawed and a certain, horrible understanding overtook me.

_Something is wrong with him._

"Relax," said the greasy, brown-haired boy, "we're not gonna bite her."

To prove that Shou couldn't be trusted, Hiroto bit me on the shoulder anyway. It hurt, but the greatest unpleasantness from the experience, I remember, was his breath. It stank of plaque, processed meat and semen. I felt the acid in my stomach rise to the back of my throat and I held myself back best I could from choking on the stench.

"She's a cutie, Rei," remarked the one who had sired me with his poison bite, "I wonder how many things you've neglected to tell her about yourself. Aren't most relationships founded on honesty?"

Rei glared at him, his lips peeled back over his teeth in a grit.

"F-fuck you, you son of a bitch."

Shou began to pace around me like a panther circling its prey. I was certain he was going to begin toying with me as they do, but he did not address me any more than looking at me, when he spoke. He was wearing leather trousers and they made soft creaking noises as he strutted, as if he were a marionette. I began to wonder to myself silently amongst the red fear in my brain who could be pulling the strings of someone like him.

_They'd have to be the most fucked up person on Earth_.

"Now now, Hiroto," said Shou, "be nice to the girl. She's all Razor's got, after all-"

"-stop," panted Rei, his face alive with anger, "Stop calling me that."

Another chorus of noises rose up between four of them; arrogant noises, along the lines of 'Oooh, don't disturb Reita- he might just spit on us'. Shou however, did not flinch or speak. For a second I felt, I can't explain how, something passing between the two of them. In that time, I understood something else, as I hung in the arms of the boy with the evil-smelling breath; that made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.

_Crazy people know crazy people, don't they?_

"Or what?" Shou asked coldly, re-pocketing his gun. When Rei didn't reply, Shou smirked at him and continued with the speech which Nao had begun earlier.

"You should be grateful we're here, fool," said Shou, "We're even going to give you that information free. But I think it's time for us to strike a deal over matters, don't you?"

I didn't like the sound of that one bit. I felt my captor's giggles rising in his chest like an uncorked champagne bottle from a series of little spasms. I longed to break free and punch him, as it would have felt astoundingly good, but I did not want to die, either. He had spikes on the knuckles of his gloves and I doubted that it would take long for him to rip open someone's face using them. From the look on Reita's face as I watched, he seemed to dislike it just as much, if not more.

Reita laughed, softly. "Forget it. I'm not joining you. Not in a million fucking years."

"Did I say that you had a choice?"

Saga giggled, but it was a little uneasy.

"The Souma-Kai hate us because they think we got involved in your affairs," Shou continued, "which is fine, because we didn't really need them anyway, but business has been tough these days, like I said. Makes having a guy like you around useful, because you can squeeze information out of people as easily as juicing a lemon."

Reita opened his mouth to protest, perhaps because I was there, but closed it again and gave me a sad, defeated glance. He could have looked at me in any way at all and I would have felt the same desire I did then; to run away from him and never speak to him again. Another part of me, however, disagreed and was filled with this dreadful curiosity that made me feel ashamed. I wanted to be here and witness this- and more, I wanted to know everything else.

"My point is," said Shou after a moment, "that if Toshio Souma were to find out where you, your friends or this bitch are, he'd rip them to shreds first, in order to get to you and rip _you_ to shreds. Am I right, Razor?"

All the resistance fled from Reita's body in a stream so rapid and powerful that it was unbearable to watch. He slumped over in Tora's arms and gave a small, understanding nod. Questions rose and fell in my mind like a sea of quizzical submarines with spiders and other horrible things inside their locked bellies.

(_Who is Toshio Souma? Why does he keep calling Reita, 'Razor'?_)

"I'm glad we understand each other," said Shou smugly, "so here's the deal. You join us. No fees, no nothing- that's all we want. You'll learn to love us all over again, won't he, boys?"

Another chorus of 'yes' rose up and died. Reita lifted his head to meet Shou's eyes. I realised then, as I properly focussed on his face, that there was something on it that had taken the place of his noseband that made the breath stop in my chest. It looked as if his face, from the middle of his nose across his cheeks, was _smiling_ at me, with a Cheshire cat-like grin. I wanted greatly to scream once more, but I wanted even more not to be punished again by the creature's horrible breath, so I did not.

"What if I don't?"

Shou grinned widely at him; to match the mark on Reita's face.

"We'll tell him where you are. He'll be pretty quick to forgive us, then, I'm sure."

I didn't hold back my sobs this time and my captor, as I thought he would, revelled in them. His long tongue extended out to lick my tears and taste them. I wanted to be home, home to scrub all of this dirtiness off me before I was consumed by it, like my tears by this parasite latched to my body. I would not be going home that night, but I did not know that yet, nor did I dare think it, for it was the only thing that kept me conscious at that current moment.

However, Shou nodded to Hiroto and Tora and they immediately let us go. We fell on our knees, three feet apart from each other and Nao sniggered at us. The five of them strode away from us to their bikes, which they mounted one at a time. Shou was the last, as he had stayed to whisper a silent goodbye in Reita's ear.

"You've got six months, before we're back. Decide quickly, motherfucker."

Then, with a squeal of tyres and grunting engines, they left in a spray of dust.


	31. 30: The Virus of Life

_The hospital waiting room is sterile and surprisingly empty, considering that it is a Saturday night. Yuki Ishimaru sighs a little; not understanding why the wait is so long for a consultant, be her condition 'mild' or whatever. Her nosebleed, previously heavy, has discontinued and a thin crust of blood has formed around her nostril. She wants to scrape it off because it itches, but she fears starting up the bleeding again. _

_After a while of hesitance and waiting, the nurse comes to show her to the doctor. Yuki dislikes the nurse when she sees her for several reasons and wishes that she had been called up and allowed to go in alone. She doesn't like the nurse's face; pudding plump with two beady eyes like currants in a bun. Nor does she like the way she speaks to her; in a sugary-sweet, patronising tone. Yuki wants to scream to her: 'I'm older than you, for fuck's sake, not senile!' and feels angry at herself for receding down to the level of the nurse by getting irritated at her disposition. She is worried and impatient. She did not leave an indication in the note that she left that she _was _worried, and feels proud of doing so. They are young girls; too young to worry about her and Yuki feels that it is best for them, should something be wrong with her, for the situation to be kept quiet for as long as possible._

_The consultant takes one look at her, with her bleeding nose and asks her how often she has been having them. Yuki replies to him that they have been sporadic over the last three or four months or so, but more than usual. In reality, they have been far more regular than that; twice to three times a week, but for some reason which makes her feel ashamed of herself, she plays down the truth. _

_The doctor looks at her like he doesn't believe her and bluntly asks Yuki if they can take a blood sample. He is a relatively young doctor, with hair that is jet black and shining, but there are tired wrinkles around his eyes. Yuki estimates his age at around his early thirties and he reminds her of her brother in law, Miro's father Michio, when he still had a soul. Yuki is surprised by this request however and flatly refuses until he has examined her properly, partially due to annoyance, but also because of her own trepidation of discovering something about herself that she doesn't want to know._

_The doctor complies to her request with some reluctance and lays her down on the examining table in his room. He prods her around and pokes for a while which makes Yuki grind her teeth with pain. He feels her stomach and the lymph nodes at her neck and armpits. He tells her that yes, yes they are swollen, which roughly translates to Yuki in her irritable mood as: 'Guess who was right'. She does not know why she hasn't noticed the pain previously, but it is here now; for sure. She puts it down to the fact that she doesn't have a tendency to go around poking around herself to see what hurts. She thinks of the mild innuendo in her previous thought and sniggers; the doctor giving her a warning look as he thinks that she's not taking this- or him- seriously._

_She lets the doctor take her blood, but she does not watch. She has an avid fear of needles and it hurts as he slides the metal point beneath her skin at the elbow. The doctor witnesses the rapid dribble of blood from the t-junction where her Basilic vein splits in her arm for her, instead. It is a dark trickle with a rosy tint and it reminds the doctor dimly of treacle. It does not take long and Yuki is glad that her arm is her own again. _

_The doctor informs her that they're going to run some tests on her blood and that they'll call her in a few days to give her the results. Yuki thanks the man and leaves the hospital; catching a cab from the regular service outside. She dislikes getting cabs because of the feeling of exploitation she always gets when they hand her a slime-coated bill, but she prefers to be safe rather than sorry. It is warm and dry inside and the driver is relatively friendly; trying to make small-talk with her as he drives her back home. Usually Yuki is a chatty person who loves sharing stories with others, but she either has no current voice to project, or no will to do so. So the conversations in the cab, when they occur, are generally one-sided and eventually, after a short while, the cabbie desists and the remainder of the journey is comparably quiet. _

_Yuki is greeted at home by a somewhat dire situation which she is in even less of a mood to deal with. The Takashima boy is fanning Aisha's face, who is lying down in the 'good' living room on a spare futon looking somewhat dishevelled. Yuki asks him curiously what is wrong with her and why she's down here rather than in her room; to which Ru casually replies, with noticeable worry that it is easier to fetch water, food and ice from the kitchen if needs be. He quickly adds to this that he would have called the hospital, but Aisha felt at the time that it was simply a part of the illness of her pregnancy and nothing more; which seems, according to Uruha, a reasonable assumption; as she has not vomited for a couple of hours at least and her fever has gone down. _

_Yuki admires him for this and begins to tell him so, but is bustled to the side by Taeko and the Shiroyama boy; who are running in and out with various things, amongst them several hot water bottles and food. She notices after a while that it seems to be a cycle, in that they'll stay seated and talk for a while before setting off again in a panicked, disorganised way. Yuki chuckles at their actions and wonders what they've been doing. The two of them smell of fresh sweat, cigarette smoke and perfume. She can imagine, but she decides, out of courtesy, not to ask._

_Taeko looks at Yuki worriedly and asks her about the blood on her nose, before telling her that she is sorry that she hadn't called and that she had made yakisoba if she was hungry. Yuki is warmed by this and tells her that she need not worry; that she is having tests done and the doctor is pretty much certain that it is anaemia and nothing more. She lies to Taeko because she loves her and knows that Taeko, God bless her soul, needs a break more than anyone else she knows. She only hopes that the Shiroyama boy, should they be together or whatever, treats her well. _

_None of them worry about Kai, Rei or Ruki. Miro's location is enquired about briefly; but dropped shortly afterward. After all, their own problems are enough to contend with._

_

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_**A/N: *Whew* two updates in a day! Hope that makes up a little for my recent slowness ^^ The next bit of the story's coming up, which focusses on Reita's past life and should last a fair while, but I'm pretty confident you'll enjoy it if you've liked the story so far XD As always, I love constructive criticism and thanks loads, Katani, for your amazing ego boosting :3**_  
_


	32. 31: Through the Night

Neither I nor Reita had noticed that the rain had stopped. We did not care and could not speak. We sat in that shipyard for a long time, not looking at each other but not daring to move. I did not know how to feel and I was wrestling with my insides to figure out what to do. I traced meaningless shapes in the grit with my finger; the damp, loose gravel and dirt giving the viscous mixture a similar texture to clay. I thanked myself that I had managed to stop crying, but I could not help myself in feeling endlessly and irrevocably numb.

I finally decided, when the chasm of silence got too much to bear, to speak. I knew it was going to be the wrong thing to say, but I had precious little choice but to ask, as there was nothing at all else. We could not sit here forever as we were and my only hope was that Reita would take my words as solely concern. I took a deep breath, like the one I had earlier and I tasted the gasoline flavoured air left over as a relic from the monsters whom had left us.

"Should we call-"

"-the police?" Reita asked, cutting across me with a tone of sarcasm, "Like they'll be able to help. Meddling with cops has gotten me into enough fucking trouble. Way more than enough, in fact."

Another period of silence followed before I thought of another question which needed to be expressed rising up inside me, that came as a surprise due to its importance. I was a student of Physics; an individual whose scholarly career mainly dealt with enquiring into the unknown phenomena concerning space, matter and life. Right now, the world and this moment seemed a hell of a lot more significant than the image I had conjured in my mind through my current education of the Earth and our place on it. This world was something which I was not used to, but it was a change that made me feel more worthy- more_ alive_- than since I could remember. I wondered if this feeling was the reason why Reita chose to do Physics, like I did, for I could not think of a better reason to study something that could predict everything but mankind. I felt trepid about my enquiry, but it nonetheless came out impossibly.

"Who are you?" I asked, softly. He looked up at me and his mouth curved a little into a half-smile.

"That depends," he replied, "on how much you want to know. If I were you, I'd run the hell away from me and never come back. God knows, I deserve that."

I pondered the idea for a while. It was tempting to run away from what I had just seen, to try and forget it and the life I had here. It would be easy enough for me- to tell Yuki I was going and catch the first flight out of the country after my last goodbyes to the others, or maybe even warnings. But as I looked into his sad brown eyes, I knew I could not.

I _had_ to know.

"Please," I said to him, "please tell me."

* * *

_The motel is inexpensive and understandably run-down because of that, but it's all we need. This place is warm, dry and near, so it's good a place as any. Both of us agree that going home currently isn't the best idea, because it's certainly no place to talk. We would be bombarded with countless questions about where we've been, how it went and whether we were doing anything again. Questions that would be innocent and caring in intent, but also ignorant to our current pain. We are in no mood at all to deal with them and right now, we need the company of each other._

_We sit down together on the double and Reita tells me that he's sorry about everything, including the state of the room, which he laughs a little at. I laugh too, but it is a little shrill and false. We decided earlier to impress upon each other the conditions of our stay by splitting the bill between the both of us this time. It is not intended therefore to be a stay as a couple, but a serious discussion as friends, or even simply witnesses, to determine the course of what could be our futures. Regardless of this fact, Reita still tells me that I should have let him pay for it, after adding that it's scummy and cheap enough anyway, but we know that the meeting place, as long as it is quiet, is irrelevant, like the part to play the cost of fucking a hooker has to the benefit the act brings to a cheating man. I look down at the frayed comforter and smile at it. I don't have to think hard to imagine that this is the kind of place where that sort of stuff happens. I ought to feel scared, but I don't anymore. Just the same, frosty numbness that has been persistent for the last half-hour or more._

_I don't know why I cry, but I do now. Floods and floods. It reminds me of that time long ago where Mum came at me with those shards of dish all that time ago as a kid. I think about her and for all her faults, I miss her so terribly and I hate her so much for not even calling me all week to see if I was doing okay; but at the same time I am still not surprised. I wonder what she would think of me, sitting with a person who knew people like the Nines and had slashes and marks on his face from drugs and fights. Would she be as quick to judge as I knew her to be? Would she wait to hear everything, like I was about to, before she made her choice?_

_Reita is hesitant to move because of how much I know at first. He has barely touched me at all since the incident; only hauling me up from the ground as we left the shipyard behind. But eventually, as my sobs get longer and more prolonged, he extends his arms to hold me. I feel comforted immediately and I look at his rose tinted lips with the betraying cherry flavour on them. I feel a deep aching for that moment we shared together and a pining for things to have not gone the way they have done. _

_Reita tells me that it is okay, that it is fine and they are gone- for now. That nobody will hurt me while I'm in here with him or he will kill them where they stand. I don't know whether this is the truth or if he's just saying it to make me feel better for absolute certain, but there is a firmness and finality in his words that makes my crying slow from a broken dam into the smooth trickles of a mountain stream. I am scared of him and he knows it, but not because of what he's capable of doing to me personally, because I know, at least right now, that he will not harm me. I am terrified, however, about what he is capable of doing to himself- and others. _

_My thoughts of water curdle to the thoughts of the evil but beautiful leech who consumed my pain like a devil and my numbness shatters with total completeness. I shriek, a cord snapping in my brain as the filth registers to me and I claw at my face, my face which he licked and left that smell of come and dog food on the areas where his tongue dragged. I shriek and shriek and claw until Reita grabs my hands firmly after his urges for desistance go unheeded. I struggle still and I feel as if things are crawling on me. My body is drenched with sweat and I am shivering. My face is bleeding and it stings but as I cannot see it, it is a good pain to me; a pain that will get rid of the things which the creature has infected me with when he raped my skin with the slick, pulsating muscle which he also used to pleasure men and speak lies._

_Reita tells me to stop again, but I cannot help it. I cannot help but seethe in my flesh and want to peel the dirtiness from my skin. I meet his eyes and plead with him through my hellish wheezing to take me and bathe me, take all this off my skin, for the love of God, _**please**-

_I'm unsure of whether or not he understands the reasoning for my desire for clean water on my skin, but he tells me to wait and goes to the bathroom. I hear the water running and I calm a little and stop clawing myself, long enough to feel the warm dribbles of blood leaking from the scratches made by my long, oval nails. There is a dryness in my mouth and a soreness in my throat because of my shrieks and I try my best to moisturise it so I can speak; flicking my tongue and lapping away the gummy material that sticks my lips together._

_He comes back shortly with a warm washcloth and he uses it to clean my face; dabbing it gently on my cuts and most importantly dissolving away the foulness of the creature's breath. Slowly, I calm as it goes and I feel intensely grateful to him. I thank him quietly and he nods, as if he understands my reasoning and holds me to him again. I have stopped crying now but my breathing is laboured, as if I am preparing myself to do so, should I need to once more._

_Reita looks around the motel room and wonders why it seems familiar to him, but he does not ponder the thought. Instead, he asks me if I am ready and I nod tentatively after a moment or so, the growing uncertainty of the story I am about to hear reaching new levels of dread and fascination inside my mind. I wonder for a brief moment who else knows any of this and I want to ask him, but I do not dare. _

_He releases me and sits opposite on a plastic chair with a threadbare cushion on the seat and looks at me. He tells me that he would never have told me this had I not witnessed what I had earlier and that he is telling me what he is about to because he feels he owes me that respect. I do not feel insulted, or at least I try not to feel so and I nod again, trying hard to maintain my eye contact with him._

_Reita Suzuki takes a deep breath- like he did when he snorted the blow last week- and begins._

* * *

It is now, dear reader, where I must leave you for a short time as this part of the story is told, for it is not mine to tell. These recollections belong to Reita Suzuki and Ruki Matsumoto alone, so we will step out of my first person narration and pass the torch to each of them to do as they will when the time comes. I have not left you and I never will, so I hope that you are understanding of my reasoning for this part of the tale. Let them guide you for a while- and I hope that they will forgive me for my crude telling of my respective earlier recollections of their memories and nightmares.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry about the boringness of this chapter, but I had to introduce the next bit somehow :'] As you may have guessed from Miro's previous narration, the next few chapters are going to be told from the perspectives of Rei and Ruki as they tell the story of Reita's life and the aftermath after Ruki found him, so get ready for that :]**


	33. 32: The Beginning of the End

The story of my life begins like this. There's not been all that many around to tell it to. You're one of the first, in fact. It's something I don't talk about lightly and not only for reasons concerning its unsuitability in most civilised situations. It is a long, dark and gritty tale, of which not all I can remember or access in my mind, for reasons I don't doubt you'll understand when they become apparent.

I was born in a hospital in Tokyo, Aiiku hospital, which is in the very heart of the city not all too far from the waterfront. I was a healthy child and my Mother told me that I was also somewhat mischievous. I had a tendency to like to explore as a kid and I broke many a tree branch back then from climbing. I would often come home in my ruined clothes and my mother would scold me and my older sister would laugh at me. This never lasted long though, because she would then hug me and tend to my bruises and scratches with her witch hazel and soft cotton, which I hated because of the sting. She was caring, my Mother and she would always run me a hot bubble bath to nullify the itchy burning and serve me her special mango pudding afterward, in my favourite Astro-Boy bowl, for being her 'brave little akachan'. I remember wanting to tell her that the comment was somewhat oxymoronic (or contradictory) as a child; but I didn't know those words, so I found myself frustrated and blushing every time I ate it. Maybe that's why I can't eat it anymore, because of my memories of those times, or the fact that it just generally reminds me of my Mother.

But I'm rambling a little; especially as I haven't even given the slightest mention of my Father yet. I tend to do that sometimes, when I'm scared or worried about something and don't want to get to it. I suppose a lot of people do, but you'd think by now I'd have gotten over those fears, rather than acting like a frightened lawyer-type discussing issues with a defendant in a murder trial. After all, the said situation is very, very unlike this one and I feel that my present company is far more pleasant.

Let me tell you about him.

Throughout my childhood and teenage life, the image of my father remained relatively consistent. He was about six foot two, with broad muscled shoulders and greying hair. I remember he had these huge hands, with hairy knuckles and when I was a kid they seemed the size of dinner plates. But as intimidating as they may have been, he never once used them to strike or punish me. He used to love his whiskey and I had to bring it to him a lot when I was younger. He'd usually have two or three fingers of 'Grouse', depending on his mood after 'work' and he'd ask for it in a crystal shotglass on the rocks; the 'meal' complete with a fresh, mature cigar. He didn't live the 'healthiest' lifestyle, my Father- and it's ironic really that it wasn't what killed him. Well, to some extent, anyway; for it truly depends on what you consider his 'lifestyle' to begin with.

He used to tell me and my sister that he worked in a business firm as a salesman, when we were what he liked to call the 'Age of Blissful Childhood Ignorance'. Being young, of course, I believed him unquestioningly, as children with unconditional love and trust for their parents do, but I could tell my sister was finding it tougher and tougher to do so as she grew up. I'm not all too sure why. It may have been because she saw, or found, something that she wasn't meant to, or that it was getting more and more difficult to understand the expenses of our lifestyle on a salesman's salary; like the fact that my Father owned a Rolls.

I'd have never really known about the real family business though, if I hadn't seen it for myself. To this day, I wish I hadn't. It's the one thing I well and truly wish I had been sensible enough to remain clueless about. I could curse my Father for weakening to my persuasions, but it was truly my fault, more than anyone else's. I _had_ to pry and look and be curious.

If only I knew then what I do now.

It was an average, hot Friday afternoon in mid July. I'd just gotten home from school that day and nobody was around. We were breaking up in around a week or so, which, to an eleven-year-old middle school kid, was pretty much the best news on Earth. I was looking forward to the planned vacation we had for the summer, because my parents had gone all-out on the trip, as we hadn't been away for a while and our last holiday to Spain had sucked. They had decided, after much begging and pleading from my sister and I, to go away to Disneyworld Florida, all expenses paid, for _six _whole weeks. To be honest, the idea, even now, strikes me as somewhat amazing and enthralling. Although there's a smaller resort in Tokyo, it's hard to find it as appealing when you're a kid, as it's not the 'main deal', if you get my drift. Me and my sister weren't bilingual in English, only knowing the odd word, but my parents were fluent, so I was looking forward to the whole 'cultural' thing as well as the place itself.

I remember being achingly bored, as I strolled around the house, licking a purple Popsicle. It must have been around ninety that day, which hadn't been too much of a problem in the classrooms of the school as the fans had run at max every lesson and the windows had been open so wide that birds could fly in, but the heat was obvious now in my bright front room where the glare shone through the patio doors and boiled the tatami on the floor until they split. I wanted to go out into the garden and spray myself down with the hose, but for some reason, my Mother always took the key with her when she went out. For security reasons, she said, which I didn't really understand because I'd been entrusted with a house key for over a year then. I recall being somewhat proud when I once puffed out my chest and said I'd fight off anyone who tried to come in our house, which seemed a very fair predicament at the time due to my ignorance of the deadliness of knives and guns, but my mother laughed, ruffled my hair and left anyway. It was an aching irritation, staring into the cool back yard with its shady trees, green and shiny from the Hanami a couple of months before and its smooth, emerald grass which seemed to stretch on as far as the eye could see, knowing that I could not enter or touch that place; where the goldfish in our pond, in a tantalising irony, seemed to swim so freely. How frustrating it was; knowing that I could not climb the biggest cherry tree of all cherry trees in that garden and savour the sweet fruit it bore after its delicate sakura were sacrificed to the merciless, howling spring winds!

My Popsicle then seemed incredibly dull compared with the flavour of those cherries. They were blood red, with dark flesh and made a wet crackling noise when you bit into them, which I and my sister often did during the summer months. There was a wooden tub in our backyard, a hot tub, which our parents sometimes used for entertaining or for guests, but as both were relatively rare, the two of us usually haunted it during the holidays; filling it with cold water and leaving the heating off and the jets at high speed. It was a luxury as a child, laying there in that pool which massaged our bones in our fragrant garden as we ate our incomparable cherries, with a glass of iced tea or fresh lemonade. Our parents would often come out and comment that we looked like royalty with a teasing laugh, which would follow with a mitigated demand to come in for dinner.

Ah, I was salivating. I had never desired so much in my life before then, or at least it felt that way at the time. Even Disneyworld didn't seem as important now, as just getting to those cherries. The glass faded the image as it fogged from my breath and I wiped it clean, trying to think of what to do. I could have climbed over the back gate, I supposed, but there was a stack of rusty garden tools which my Father had neglected to remove from the other side- and I didn't really want to get impaled on something and get the 'Lockjaw'; which, to me, sounded incredibly scary.

My scalp was getting itchy, so I took off my Power Rangers cap and scratched my head, trying to think. I had a bright idea then, well, certainly a _life_-changing idea, which I had thought was completely ingenious at the time. My father tended to keep a set of spare keys in the garage in a red box under the workbench. He told us that he kept them there to keep us safe, so, if we wanted to use them, we ought to call for him and ask. He warned us never, ever to go in the garage alone, because it was dangerous and there were chemicals in the air, which, he said, could damage our lungs and hurt us later on in life, if we weren't careful; or, that they could be set off by the slightest spark, which was understandably rather worse. Personally, I thought that he just didn't want us anywhere near his car, which I would never, ever have dared to say to his face. My father and I are alike in the respect that our moods can be easily changed, apparently.

I finished my Popsicle and weighed up the hazards in my mind. It was such a stupid, petty little thing, was this decision and I still find it very hard to comprehend the damage it led to. But as I was young and naive, a boy a few months short of his twelfth birthday, I had no idea of any of the things I was about to get involved in. I cannot help myself but hate this memory, even though in the circumstances of any normal, Japanese family, nothing would have become of it except a brief scolding and a lecture on safety. But of course, this is also a stupid thing to think, because my family, God rest them, were very, _very_ far from normal.

I decided, without much pondering, that my lungs were worth risking for the sake of those cherries and I wandered into the gleaming kitchen to the door that led out into the garage. It stuck a little as I tried to turn the doorhandle and I thought for a disappointed moment that one of my parents had locked this door too, but after a moment of struggling, it gave and I stumbled forward onto my knees.

The room was relatively small and dull, but slightly better than average for a garage, in that it was possible to move around the cars you worked on and you could fit two in quite comfortably. I owned a bike, which had been my means of getting home, but I didn't keep it in here for obvious reasons, so my father had been accommodating enough to install a couple of bicycle rings on one corner of the drive where me and my sister would lock up and lay over a tarpaulin if it was raining. I disliked this room anyway, with its dark, gloomy smell of oil slicks and lighter fluid, so it was just as well I kept my BMX outside, really.

I crawled around in the dim, hunting for the box. A spider scuttled across me and I cried out, jumping backward a mile. I happen to be incredibly arachnophobic (as well as dysmorphophobic), which my friend Aoi will tell you about. He loves spiders and owns a pet Brazilian Black tarantula called Marty. He used to tease me with him in high school, for the brief year or so I went and used to stick him in my desk to piss me off. Number of times I've tried to kill that fucker with frying pans or books is beyond me, but eventually Aoi made a pact after I threatened to spike his cricket feed that he wouldn't do it anymore, thank God. Give him his due, he hasn't. Give _Marty_ his due as well; I may hate the sight of him and let him know it, but for the number of times I've tried to kill him, he's never tried to bite or flick his hairs at me. We're sort of 'friends' now, I suppose, me and the fucking spider.

Eventually, after willing myself to dig amongst the used oilcloths and empty tubs of Turtle Wax, I found the box and sighed happily. It had only been a few minutes, but I felt as if the journey had been perilous and I was happy to claim my prize. I picked it up and set it on my knees, blowing off a thin layer of dust and cobwebs which had settled on top of the dull red casing and was just about to open it, when I heard the front door open and close.

I froze helplessly, panic exploding in my chest. Of course, it wouldn't have normally been _too_ big a deal if I had been caught, looking back now, but as a kid, I hated disappointing my parents. As I heard the footsteps getting inevitably closer, I managed to force myself to close the door as quietly as I could. I was sweating madly now and closed my eyes, forcing my brain to work against the vigorousness of my heart pumping. I realised with another stupid bout of ingenuity that the key for my father's car might be in the box, so I opened it and frantically searched, coming out with an elegantly fashioned, chrome-plated key with 'RR' stamped on the leather protector.

Before I knew what I was doing, I had thrown the oiled rags back over the box and was in the backseat of my Father's car. His _baby_. I had not been in it very often, you understand, as my mother was usually the one to take us to school if the days were cold or rainy in her Lexus which was parked side by side a couple of feet away. I'm not sure why I chose my Father's car rather than hers; maybe because it was closer, or, maybe because of that curiosity; that irritating, terrible curiosity that has gotten me into nearly every single goddamn mess I've ever been in. Of course, this situation was no exception.

I had known, when I locked myself in and curled on the floor in the back of the car, that my Father was going to come in the garage. Not that he always did or anything when he came home, but it was it was just a certainty I felt. As I lay on the felt-leather car lining, I felt a certain kind of triumph, along with the crippling fear of getting caught, that I was tricking an adult, being clever- and felt that same pride I had felt when I had declared my vows of protection upon my mother which alas, I was never able to keep.

What I had _not_ expected was for him, whistling a tune, to get into the car with me and drive off.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, he's a cute little kid :'] Where he was born/his arachnophobia, etc, is all totally fictional for the sake of this story :]**


	34. 33: Stupid MF

I was fully and doubtlessly aware of my Father's presence here with me, but I didn't dare to look up. Concepts, _things _were swirling in my head; thoughts running rampant of trouble and disaster. I knew now, in a dreamy sort of way; that I was inevitably going to be caught. The only question was _when_. Sure, that fear was there as it had been before, but it was somewhat locked behind a brittle wooden door of helpless understanding. I forced my breath to slow in my grateful bout of calm and huddled up as small as I could on the floor while the tyres of the car screamed and ground their unique kind of music in my ears.

I could not see out of the windows, but I could regardless tell that my Father wasn't just breaking the speed limit; he was virtually _shattering_ it. We flew over a pothole, or some kind of bump in the rood and the car bounced and jolted; me rattling around with it like pepper in a shaker. I would later exit the car in the manner I was made; plastered with bruises from my tender, childish flesh striking the cruel plastics and fibreglass from which the floor and seats were formulated. Exit, however, seemed an impossibility at that current point in time and I was finding it exceedingly difficult indeed not to cry. I remember chanting to myself in my head as hot tears of pain and confusion streamed down my cheeks that I mustn't cry, I mustn't, for Daddy's sake I _mustn't_- just before, after what seemed like an eternal ride, the car squealed around a corner and, after a minute or two more, came to a halt somewhere unknown.

I heard my Father sigh and get out of the car; his smart, businessman's chinos making a soft clack on a floor made of some variety of stone. I bit my thumbnail, chewing it vigorously as I listened intently, through will or otherwise, to my Father's accomplices; a little, initial indication of the life he lived, of which I would become involved in exceptionally shortly. It was daytime in the outside world, but this place was heavily shaded, as if it were a place not fit to be seen by anyone. I recall feeling almost sad that my father should miss such a lovely day, ridiculous as it seems now, as I strained my highly attuned child's ears to the sounds outside.

My Father, as I had suspected, was not alone. It would have seemed stupid of course, for him to come all the way out here at the speed he had just to spend some 'time' with himself. No, he wasn't alone at all. I tried to sieve the different voices apart from one another in order to weave a picture of the situation outside the chrome-wood panelling of the car's luxury interior.

After a short while, I became relatively sure of the number of men of whom my father was currently conversing. Three, it was. One with a gruff, low voice; one with a high pitched, whiny voice and one with a charmer's voice; laden with grease to cover the knives in his words. The one with the low pitched voice also coughed regularly throughout the conversation, with an awkward, wheezy dry-heave and it made me wonder with some amusement of how many he smoked in a day. I could imagine it being upwards of forty, because healthy lungs, even with the worst case of flu imaginable, don't sound like that.

Now, I suppose here's one of the parts in this story where you're going to ask me a question (or several, as the case may be). What they were actually talking about, perhaps? Which seems reasonable enough, as, after all, I owe it to you to tell the truth and I would expect for you to want nothing more or less than that. I always pay people what I owe them. You're no different. Those three _men_ were certainly no different; though it is still a situation I have yet to finish dealing with. But, as I digress, that's something which we will return to later when you've a better understanding of my erroneous life choices, my dear.

Back then, as I lay in the back of that car still, I didn't really understand what they meant by what they were actually saying, as my Mother and Father, understandably as parents, had led me to lead a somewhat shielded existence from the world outside. I didn't even, for example, know what a damned _blowjob_ was until I was thirteen, for fuck's sake. I used to think it was something a hairdresser did to the hair of women in order to make it curl, which, when I explained this to the Nines (not a month after my enclosed training), had caused a roar of laughter, an elongated explanation and a hell of a lot of punches to the upper flesh of my arm. Charming fuckers, aren't they? I suppose it's somewhat reassuring in a way, hopefully not humouring or insulting you by saying this, that they haven't really changed much. Just more pissed off at me, but it wasn't as if I had left things between them in a shrewd manner, either.

After the greetings were formally exchanged, the four men began their discussion. I remember phrases like: 'new cargo', 'fresh material' and 'top of the range shit'. All of these things seemed to be expressed rather enthusiastically by the whiny voiced man, whom, as I had irritatingly discovered, talked at an astoundingly fast pace. I felt frustrated, not being able to understand. Of course I knew what 'cargo' was, but the term, due to my relative innocence, was somewhat underextended and I had no idea what it _really_ meant. I was pretty certain of a _couple_ of things, though. That whatever this was, whatever they were dealing in, wasn't legal. I realised this quickly, because they talked about keeping the 'heat' off their backs, along with a joke that they'd let the younger ones take the pitch, as they'd not spent any time in the 'pen' and they weren't starting now, as they had a family. The worst thing was though, that the person who made that joke was my Father and he spoke about going to prison as lightheartedly as he would seeing a relative, but not the scariest thing, by far.

What a wonderful time for the motes of un-vacuumed dust to collect beneath my nose. It seems extraordinarily typical now, really, that my location was going to be given away so readily from such a clichéd act. I remember how much the chilling horror rose within me as I felt the spasms coming and rising in my chest, falling, rising, falling... rising. I held out for as long as I could, until my eyes streamed with the frustration and the itch of needing to do something badly, such as my lust for the forbidden fruit in our garden back home had been in that place that seemed so far from here. I held and I held, until I could no longer and the sneeze burst out of my chest, like a wheezy gunshot.

The men halted their conversation with cries of surprise. I cupped my hand over my mouth, terrified now; the part in the nightmare, where the monster gets you, coming closer and closer. I heard clicking noises then and a sliding movement; the sound that well oiled metal makes when it scrapes against something. I was familiar with that sound, though I had never heard it in reality before. I was familiar with it because of its relevance in virtually every movie I'd ever seen. The sounds were guns, being prepared to fire by clearing the safety.

Oh, monsters indeed.

Ironically, my Father was the one who found me in the car, huddled up and frightened; red face wet and strained. He strode up to it with almost condescending confidence, as if he were certain all along of whom it was and pulled away the door with outstanding force. I had no time to protest whatsoever or explain myself before he dragged me from the car by my legs, _literally_ kicking and screaming. The others ran up to join him and they stood over me, three of them looking coldly at their pesky inconvenience; a frightened, eleven year old boy. My Father was the exception; his features furrowed with a mixture of pity, worry and sadness. I looked up at him with a similar expression.

He asked me what I was doing there. They all did, in their own way; their frantic enquiries losing their nature and becoming hard demands. I felt afraid back then, looking at the greasy man, that he would hurt me in some terrible, unknown way if I didn't comply, so I swallowed my pride and gave them the truth. I told them that I didn't know, that I was sorry and that I wanted to go home. I sobbed again and one of the men raised his hand to strike me; as a sign of impatience or to cure my unmanageable current state, but my Father blocked his hand.

Their interest feigned from me a bit then and they stepped back and began arguing with each other. My Father fought hard with them but they managed to break him quickly when it came to discussing me. It was a sad sight, seeing my Father beg, but he did. Through the shouting and my focus back then, with my fearful mind receding further and further from full consciousness, I could not understand all of what they were saying, but I managed to catch a few snippets. One of the men, the smoker, who had a light, unkempt beard roughening further his weathered chin, was explaining some things to my Father, about the problems my presence had brought upon them all. That I knew too much, when I didn't at all. That I could compromise them, when I wouldn't and couldn't; but I did not dare make a sound in defence.

The high pitched voiced man, who had a tonsure and pockmarked cheeks, gave my Father a similar accusing address, until it was the greasy man's turn to speak. He kept it short and brief, but to this day, the evilness and cruelty of it still lies beyond me.

I remember his tone, as he explained to my Father, due to the severity of the situation and the capriciousness of children, that I had to be taught reliability. That I had to be sworn to secrecy and obedience. That I had to work with them, or, if this was refused, I would be their enemy and an insult to them; therefore working against them.

And, said the man, child or not, we deal with our enemies in the same way, forever and always, that has always been the means of the Souma-Kai.

Death.

My Father fell silent, submitting to the worm and nodded, solemnly. I hiccupped a little, trying hard to cut my wretched, bratty snivelling. Why should I cry in my fear, I told myself, when it was my fault to begin with? I thought of those cherries, those invaluable beauties that got me into this terrible mess in the first place; a jewel to sate my dry tongue and juvenile greed.

Of course, after realising that, I could not help but burst into solemn, helpless tears. I stayed in that state of miserable hysteria from when my Father drove me home not a minute later, in silence; until late into that night.

* * *

**A/N: So it begins... XD Sorry, again, for taking forever- I've had loads of stuff on my plate lately, with exams, friends, relationships... the list goes on and on. Hope you enjoyed it and I'll update more as soon as I can :)**


	35. 34: Monster

My unfortunate run-in with my Father's counterparts, as you can imagine, caused a terrible amount of unrest within my family, right from the very next morning, when I awoke, cheeks dry and slightly pruned from my ceaseless sobbing throughout the night, to find my parents arguing with each other in the kitchen. Of course, it did not take me long to figure out that said disagreement was centred around my intrusion yesterday. I shivered miserably, knees knocking above my size five, fluffy blue slippers. I looked down at them and sighed. They were my favourites and I had worn them so much that the 'Thomas the Tank Engine' logo had completely faded and the toes had lost their pleasant, soft texture.

I wished I was young again. Young enough to not have any responsibilities of any kind. I thought wistfully to times when things were easier; to the age where you could not be so readily accused of fault when it came to gross misdeeds or conduct on your part. I watched my parents fighting with each other, rosy faced with mouths wide and pondered privately in a miserable sort of way whether or not they felt the same way, too. Surely, they did; or, if not then, they had at some point in their adult lives. What adult doesn't want to be a kid again, when they can be truly free from the shackles of income taxation and mortgages?

Foolish wishes, really, from an exceptionally foolish boy.

It is about time, however, that I move on from the shortcomings of what had happened to me; from the screams of my loving mother in protest to the long term things which my little feat had caused. The best way to do that is, I feel; as I ponder in telling these horrible things, to reveal the faces of the people which have had you confused for far too long. Reveal to you these villains who stole my kid's life from me and thrust in its place a 'pseudo' one; full of darkness and spite. Please forgive me if I sound bitter myself; but I speak from the heart – and, of course, I'm sure you're aware of how easy it is for one's core is to wander into these realms, filled with their thorns and fire – which makes it understandable that it should be somewhat difficult for me to stay calm.

Ah, my life. My stupid, fucking little life. How easy to believe that it is ersatz. It has taken me almost a decade to overcome that opinion myself, anyhow; for it sounds like I'm a character from some pulp, 1920's comic sold in the Brooklyn side of New York for a dime. There's certainly little ways of relating it closer to home through description; for it is conventional that the Japanese have a society that is more 'discreet' in their tidings of crime, relationships... everything, really.

Well... most of the time.

But yes, back to business.

The three men, who I just mentioned to you all (unbeknownst to me back then); are possibly the three deadliest men in the whole city of Tokyo. I'd go as far as Japan herself, but I wouldn't want to be overly hyperbolic, seeing as my opinion's going to pretty biased as I'm waxing nostalgia to you. I'm sure you have some idea as to why, but I'll explain the 'reasons' behind it as I go on.

My Father I did not count amongst those men; even though he carried a similar position to them, for I cannot bring myself to. Though it could be supposed, although he was certainly the most compassionate of the four; he was no less powerful and due to the way he pardoned and punished; choosing the vitality of the people who confronted him, he was probably one of the most respected out of them. My Father believed in fairness where it counted, but if you were to cross him, just enough, he would not hesitate to end your life with a few sharp motions of his MAC-10. It reminds me of that little legend of that Emperor was given the choice to execute a man for theft, but decided against all odds and expectations, to spare him. My Father's compassion, unknown to the others, whom I would later find had a tendency to criticise his handling of certain things, is what gave him power; far more than the alternate choice of murder.

As a matter of fact, I experienced this shortly after the fight in the kitchen. My Father had decided, after convincing my Mother of things despite her tears and awesome spite, to take me on a 'long drive'. Of course, I had some idea this time of where we would be going, due to the disposition of my Father's glare upon me and the steely tone his words had, but perhaps not to the full extent. I was frightened of course; very much so, but for the sake of my self-respect, I did not show it. I kept my face smooth and expressionless as I got into the front seat of the Rolls, for the first time ever and took a long look at the house from over my shoulder as we rolled carefully down the drive. I did not know it then, but it would be the last glance I gave at the innocent, carefree life I had before I left it behind forever.

We drove in silence; not looking at each other. I occupied myself with a loose thread on the seat, twining it around my index finger, untwining it, twining it again. An act which served no purpose to me, but yet painted a less-than-elegant picture of my feelings at the time; a grey canvas of whirling trepidation and dark remorse. I heard my Father grunt, in a sort of way that told me without the need for words that it was something I shouldn't be doing, so I replaced my hand by the side of the formal yukata which my Father had asked me to change into. He told me in the briefest way he could that the men of whom I was to meet in a more 'formal' manner would appreciate traditional dress instead of, what he told me his peers liked to call 'garments swollen with the disgrace of western society'. The yukata was itchy, uncomfortable and the ties poked into my ribs, but I did not complain, then.

I did not complain either when the car, as we drove through the route which soon became real from the abundance of its imagery (of which I had been denied on my last trip to what I assumed was our destination), became stifling. I squirmed in my seat, as the sweat began to form on my back and between my toes; causing the wood soles of my geta to become slimy under my feet. I writhed around; trying to find some means of achieving comfort in this impossible garment, when my Father snapped at me. I remember what he said, very clearly indeed.

"Can't you sit _still_ a fucking minute?"

I recall freezing in my seat, completely taken aback by the remark. My Father had _yelled_ at me. He had not yelled at me since what happened; nor did he ever usually. He tended to be a relatively quiet man; but I had been more shocked by the fact that my Father (and, for what had been for the majority of my life, my role model) had actually _sworn_ at me- and not mildly, either. He had used the Bad Word. I had known about the Bad Word of course; having heard it screamed loudly on television, or, on the occasions when my parents weren't around, my sister using it when she injured herself. I could never have imagined my Father would ever use such words on me.

I did not look up at him, though I felt, for some reason, his glare soften. After we passed through the lights, however; he did not look at me or speak again until we began to head up a small by-road in an area which was somewhat more urban. I did not need to look up at the grey, warehouse-resembling buildings to know that our journey was coming to an end. It was something, more than anything else; that I could just simply feel.

My Father, after some brief direction, led me up to one of the buildings; in a cold manner, as if we were business rivals. I looked at his hand, dangling a fair bit above where my own ended and a deep sadness filled me at the sight. How badly I wanted to hold it; to have it as a cushion to stray me away from the bed I had made for myself. It is even worse now, to an extent; than it was then, for I now know that I will never be able to do so again.

But let's not talk about that; for I don't wish to burden my miseries and self-pity upon you when what you truly deserve is the truth. It isn't fair, when this is about you; not I.

The men were waiting for me inside; in an office which my Father led me to in the back of the warehouse. Though the interior of the building was hardly that of a warehouse, at all. It had been engineered into a hideout of sorts. I looked into rooms as I passed them with my Father; watching what was going on. The majority seemed to contain young men in gis being beaten by older men in similar dress, men playing cards, men drinking; or men snorting something which I thought, back then, was sugar. I remember looking at one man, for what seemed like a long time (but really, not more than a few seconds before my Father ushered me on) and observing what he was doing. I watched him take a line of the powder, fascinated; after which he grunted and, a second or two later still, giggled vigorously as his companion slapped him on the back and congratulated him.

Ah, so I've brought it up. I'm guessing that the questions are coming about that, right? I'm going to take a wild assumption that you're going to follow this statement with a nod or a similar sort of gesture; before diving into the interrogatives locked up within you, no?

I don't mean to be callous, of course, or make you believe that I think you're a 'conventional' person of sorts, because, quite frankly, that couldn't be further from the truth; going on the impression you've given me so far. I find it amazing, that I can sit here and tell you all these things, or feel comfortable enough to not to lie to you, if that doesn't sound too offensive. Perhaps it's because what happened, concerning that little piece of my past that came back, which has knocked some sense into me; or, that I'm still at least a little bit drunk, or, which I hope is the 'real' explanation, I'm astounded that you gave me a chance to speak before running off screaming, into the night.

In answer to your first question (being arrogant enough, or enclosed as I am, to assume it is, anyway), no, that little run-in with that man wasn't what got me going. Sure though, I can't deny it got me curious, but no, alas, I was 'fortunate' enough, should fortunate be appropriate to call the time of a blow addiction to a young boy, for that little 'mishap' of mine to have not occurred until I was thirteen; during my first, six-month long detainment in Okagawa Detention Centre for Young Offenders (in fact, referring back to the 'blowjob' comment I made earlier, a lot of 'interesting' things happened when I was thirteen). By no coincidence; it's also the first time I met Saga Sakamoto, but we'll get onto that in a little while.

Back to the warehouse, or, as I would later be called to refer to it; 'Kakurega' ('The Safe House'), which I must begrudgingly admit was a relatively fitting title. Considering the fact that most of these buildings in this area were assumed to be abandoned and derelict, with no security guard from word-of-mouth rumours daring to take the long-opened-and-equally-as-neglected job post, it's certainly no surprise to me that the Souma-Kai were able to orchestrate such a successful 'business' for so long.

After some climbing of stairs, my Father took me before the three men; who introduced themselves casually and almost kindly; as if we had been friends for years. Through my child's gullibility I felt for a moment that I'd been wrong about the men; as children do when adults are kind to them, but now I know that it was simply the gentle kind of coaxing which carnivores do to their prey before devouring them.

The pockmarked man introduced himself as the 'Wakagashira' ('First Lieutenant') and stood before me, looking at me with a raised eyebrow and a little smirk. I jumped a little, realising what he wanted and I bowed to him uncomfortably. He told me to call him his name was Kiichi Murasaki, but that 'Murasaki-sama' would suffice until I had earned the right to use the slightly less formal title of 'dono', which, as I progressed through my commitments and services, would hopefully not take long.

Murasaki-dono (to which I will refer to him as, considering that it's what I'm used to) stepped back, allowing the bearded man to step forward. I bowed again before him, as he introduced himself. He was (and still is, as far as I'm aware) the 'Shateigashira' ('Second Lieutenant'). Akira Kiriyama, who went under the preferred title of Kiriyama-dono to the youths below him and, when he leered at me as my feet slipped around in my geta due to my (still) quivering knees, smelt strongly of soy sauce and stale sweat.

I wasn't incredibly frightened however, until the greasy-haired man, the one who threatened yesterday to take my life, stepped forward to take a look at me. I did not want to see into his eyes but I forced myself to, for the sake of my self-respect. I looked into those cold voids of blackness until the man looked away from me, smiling at my Father. I bowed detestfully, my tongue bound down by my screaming fear.

My initiation did not take very long from then, for Toshio Souma never takes very long making decisions, as I have often found. It was all over, as a matter of fact, in a bitter one hundred syllables or less.

"He is a fine specimen," said the greasy-haired man, still looking at my Father, "you've raised him as a good sneak, 'Saiko-Komon' ('Administrator') Suzuki-san."

My Father bowed in respect. I didn't have to look at him to know that this was hurting him more than any kind of torture that these people could have brought upon him (speaking as a witness, I'll tell you that Kiriyama-dono's quite a 'headache', if you know what I mean). I kept my head low to stay sensible as my heart squelched in my chest uncontrollably.

"I apologise again, 'Oyabun' ('Family Leader') Souma-dono."

Toshio Souma grunted, before turning to Kiriyama-dono. My mouth was dry, but I swallowed nonetheless.

"Take this child downstairs," said Souma-dono, "and give him a teacher who will explain to him the true meaning of remorse; should he fail to exceed his expectations."

That, my dear; so that you get some idea of the nature of this man, was his way of being fucking compassionate.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! Know it's a bit long winded, but like I said, need to get the less 'active' stuff out of the way before I can move on. My first A-Level (i.e. exams I need to get into university) is in two days, so probably may have to post even less :'[ I'm so sorry guys! Thanks for sticking with it though and (again) like I said, I'll do my best ^^**


	36. 35: Tears Dry on Their Own

So, let's begin the next chapter in this colourful little tale of my life, shall we?

For the sake of poetic justice however, be it necessary or not in this situation, I'm not going to ramble on about my training too long. I don't like thinking about any of this, quite frankly; but the part of training was where I, for the most part, had the least power.

When one trains to become a member of the Yakuza (or, as they prefer to call themselves, 'Ninkyo Dantai', i.e. 'Chivalrous Organisations'), they are given the title of 'Shatei' or 'Little Brother', to which their Masters and 'betters' refer to them by. It is customary, as well, for the ones who generally 'managed' us, namely the 'Kyodai', or 'Big Brothers', to refer to us by our title and then our family name; but in the Souma-Kai, where the Shatei, as I very quickly found out, are nothing more than obstacles; stubborn seeds which need to be germinated before they can bear fruit, this was not usually the case. More often than not, we were referred to by nicknames; usually fauna-centric or jabs at some defect we had, for example, the way we talked, whether one of us had a big nose, or whatever. There were twelve of us in our group and there were four groups.

Because I was skinny and often, even though I was beaten, managed to have a sharp tongue; the Kyodai who managed the group of youths to which I belonged, found it difficult to come up with a name for me. For a while they settled simply on the 'Cheeky Fucker', which they screamed into my face as they beat me if I was not fast enough when sparring, or if I nearly gave them away when I was being taught to steal. Naturally of course, I could not blame them for this. I did not like being told what to do, as I had been somewhat of a spoiled child with more brains than balls. I used to answer back an awful lot at first, not due to insolence, really (but by the way some of the other boys clapped and cheered as I left, you'd have thought I was leading a fully fledged rebellion); more rather to do with curiosity.

For example, pretend for a second, that you're a hard ass, son-of-a-bitch, who's tired, has a job to do and wants to do it fast; the way he knows is effective. Someone you manage does something wrong, namely me, the quiet new kid and you look at him, thinking: 'fresh meat', or something along those lines. I expect the very last thing _you'd_ expect from a kid who knows the reasons why he's here, after doing something wrong, to ask: 'Why are you hitting me? '– or, somewhat worse, 'Why won't you stop?' – am I right?

Sure, I didn't see these questions as 'wrong' as such in the beginning, but in such an environment, when you're having your arm twisted behind your back by an old guy half your weight until you feel like death would be a relief; you learn pretty quick when it's a good idea to take the lesser pain and shut the fuck up. My Sensei was a feisty one, I'll tell you that, although he had many other endearing qualities as well.

I was brought down to meet Kitano-Sensei that horrible day after the small-talk between myself and the Family leaders had ended. It had not been a long session; namely a formal exchange between a Master and his new student. At that session; he had managed to fool me entirely; a trick I would have to learn quickly to overcome in order to survive here. He managed to convince me, during that brief meeting; that he was a kind-hearted old man who had made a few unfortunate life choices - and I had left with a warm feeling inside.

Ah, how _that_ makes me smile.

I had certainly been half-right, though. The old geezer certainly had made a few wrong choices in his time. I never really learned a lot about him during the time I spent as his formal student; but, I can tell you now; if hear-say was going round about him, the Shatei were the first to pick it up. They say that children have the quickest limbs and the most sensitive ears; which are probably aspects which contribute to the fact that we make excellent petty thieves. In the case of gossip; the abilities appeared to act very well for us.

By the end of that week; my fellow Shatei had told me virtually everything that was going round about the old fart. Some of the things were believable. Some seemed to be colourful conjurations dreamt up by their imaginations; possibly due to their dislikes of me, as I didn't (and still don't) really talk much. They told me, for example, that he was a serial murderer that got off conviction because even the judge was scared of him. That rumour I didn't believe; but I was sure the one about him being a Second World War veteran was true, as, when his gi slacked at the front when he bowed; we were able to see briefly inside. Kitano-Sensei had a puckered scar above his right nipple that looked a little bit like a silvered caricature of a volcano mouth in miniature. No prizes to guess it was a gunshot wound. I remember shuddering a little when I first saw it; which he thankfully missed.

That old bastard broke not just my character, as he taught me the art of violence in what can only be described an extremely elegant sort of way, but an awful lot of my body, as well. By the end of my first year, for not learning fast enough or for not doing exactly what he told me, I'd had my shoulder dislocated several times, my arm broken and several broken fingers and toes.

I don't condemn him too much for the way he handled his students, though; for it worked rather well. In many ways, I thank him for it; for had it not been for the odd, mixed tactics of Judo and Karate which he taught me; I would not have hardened as soon, or been able to defend myself against the drones of people against us. In all fairness, he did not directly inflict the majority of the wounds upon me; or the others (I had not been the worst in our 'class' for injuries). Rather, they tended to occur as a result of the kind of 'activities' he put us through. As an exercise of strength; he often made us squat, with our asses perpendicular about half a metre above the floor; depending on how tall we were. He would then hang weights off our bodies; putting one on at a time. Sounds easy, right?

What if he made you do it for periods of half an hour or more – and punished you by locking you out, taking you into the city and forcing you to find your way back, amongst the viciousness, drug-dealers and tramps – should you fail?

You get the picture.

However, I needn't have found out the hard way so soon; for, at the time of my lessons, my 'betters' did not know the identity of my Father. A lot of the children which the Souma-Kai used to prey upon, if they were outside the Family circle; were the unwanted remnants of girls (a fair few of them being from prostitutes who worked in the Family brothels) who 'righteously' refused to have abortions and dumped their kids in shithole homes; or, in a couple of rare cases that would be interesting to study, let them, when they were old enough to walk; wild to forage on the streets.

In some ways, I think that Toshio Souma had meant for it to be that way, at least for a while; as a sort of punishment for the trouble I had caused. It certainly wouldn't surprise me; but even he, until the end, learned to trust me.

I was a fish out of water for a longer time than I expected in this new life of violence I had to call my own. The beatings for my failures weren't really where I felt alone though; for we all shared the same punishments for our misdeeds together; as a unit of boys and, some of us, young men. No, I felt alone, in the late evenings or during the night, when I heard them talk amongst each other of things they had seen or done. I'm not going to tell you too many details on the lives of these children, my dear; as I do not want to add greater despair unless it is necessary; but in order to give you an idea of the kind of lives these children had; I'll supply you with a brief anecdote.

There was a kid, in the dormitory where I slept with the group of Shatei to which I was assigned, namely the rookies, four futons across from me who used to scream a lot in his sleep. As you can imagine, as much as you first initially pity the kid; it gets harder and harder over time when they keep you awake and get you in shit with people for 'laziness' (even though in reality we were simply just exhausted).

Eventually, one night; a night when his screams were especially bad, I saw a group of the boys going up to him. I remember the obvious panic and the fear –

(_Oh God what are they gonna do are they gonna slit his throat? Please don't please he'll be good from now on_)

– but I did not dare move. They thought I was a shy little pussy who knew nothing at all (which in a sense, they were right), so it sickened me to imagine the kind of things they would do to me if I intervened. Cowardly, I know; but, as I knew I could not help him, what point would there be in getting myself beaten up?

The ringleader of the group; a kid called Katsuro Jones (who, Kyodai Kotaro-san liked to call; the 'Mongrel', due to his Japanese-American heritage), was the one to wake him. He did it with a drop kick to the ribs, which woke the kid up with a sickening crunch. I heard him gag and dry heave, and shuddered; feeling guilty. I closed my eyes; curling up under the thin cotton-linen covers as the sharp words of their discussion crawled into my ears.

"Do you mind keeping it the fuck down, you little bastard? We can't sleep."

Sobs now; foolish, but I doubted he could help himself. I pitied the kid; they would only enrage them.

"I-I can't... I'm s-s-"

"What are you dreaming about?"

Silence for a little while. After a few seconds, I heard a brief thunderclap of a slap across the kid's cheek and he spluttered; making a gurgling noise. I imagined he had split his lip, but only dared peek a little over the covers to see; even though the room's darkness was nearing perfect.

"Answer me, dickhead."

I heard the kid's sobs get worse, before he spoke. The words were excruciating; formed by a tongue which was forcing them the best it could; but it could never project the images it conveyed fast or well enough, like a sort of awkward, freshman's attempt at cunnilingus. I wanted to cry out to the Kyodai or anyone else to come and help him; but the Kyodai disliked him equally for being a loud sleeper.

"M-mama..." The kid managed to say, "He's hurting her... oh, God..."

Awkward silence again; until Katsuro's words came (as well as the objective of this anecdote), which left an impossible imprint on my mind. I heard a rustle of clothing and a choking noise from the boy so assumed again that Katsuro had grabbed him.

"You're the bastard son of a whore," said Katsuro, in a tone very close to kindness, "be thankful that your mother died by an overdose and had doctors around her before she died. Oh yeah, Tomasu-kun, I know about all of that bullshit."

Tomasu's limp frame dropped to the ground and the other kids started moving back to their futons, sniggering, but Katsuro stayed to give him a nice little whispered reminder of the man in charge.

"Be thankful that you weren't raped as a kid by your stepfather; who then shot your mother, when she stumbled across him fucking you."

Th-th-that's all folks; a nice little piece of melodrama for you.

But thankfully for me, they did find out, sooner rather than later, when my Father came in to one of the sparring rooms in the warehouse compound that my Family had made and discovered my head, loud and squealing, under Kyodai Kotaro-san's rather large, muddy military boot; screaming my nickname repeatedly at me. He was about five foot five; short for the western world as I'm sure you know, but not too extraordinary for Japan. To make up for his height, however; he had a large, broad build that was (and I had witnessed so) large enough to throw rogue Shatei around, should they be disobedient or insolent towards him.

My Father had dragged him to the side, as I lay there on the cold mats with my ear filling up slowly with blood like wellwater into some chalice. It was relishing to me; seeing his eyes widen in fear as he realised, but not with arrogance towards any sort of status I had. That wasn't the case at all. I just knew within myself, with a happy, quiet sort of relief that he wasn't going to call me names anymore; or hurt me as readily and as often as he had done. He came over to us, skulking and muttered something about the session being over then and a comfortable feeling filled me as he left us to our affairs.

Another of the customs of the Family to which I belonged was that, unbeknownst to me until a few days after the incident, when I was hauled away from my Mother as she screamed, held back by my Father, was that I actually had to be segregated from home and placed amongst the Shatei. One of my first memories, when I was told that I wouldn't be going home for a while, from those times was when I was taken into the hairdresser's office and they shaved off all my hair.

I used to pride myself on my hair. In a sense, I still do, but I've not taken as good care of it lately. I used to have long hair when I was eleven and used to mess around with it using whatever decent gels I could find in my bathroom. I remember feeling an awful sense of loss when I saw it; chunk by black chunk; littering the floor below me. The light was behind us; so a dim, shadow puppet show looked as if it was being acted out upon the sliding screen door.

Was this really much more than simple puppetry, acted out by the vile and greedy? I used to ask myself, regularly. With no friends at all, in the first while, the thought; sad and pathetic as it may have been, was all I had.

In this business, after all, your tears really can only dry on their own.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! Sorry if it's full of errors - when I finished it, I was exhausted :'3 I'll check it through asap and correct it/refine it by tomorrow, but as I've not updated in a while, I felt bad for making you guys wait longer :/ Three more weeks of exams! It's amazingly fun -.-**


	37. 36: Inside the Fire

The name 'Razor' came and stuck with me just over a year later – and would last as my alias until the charade we were all living collapsed around us like a deck of cards. It was how they all knew me; how they all addressed me – just 'Razor' – not 'Razor-kun' or anything else. Why they did so is a mystery to me; whether or not it was because that they had a lack of respect for me, or, conversely, a great respect for me; due to the perplexing nature of the Japanese naming system. But it was the way and after a while of it being the case, I quickly became used to it.

In all fairness, as a matter of fact; 'Razor' became what I was known for two reasons. The reason, I suppose, why it became mainstream amongst my colleagues and peers of whom I worked beside was the fact that I liked, back then, to use a traditional-style razor to shape my lines. Last time I indulged my addiction, I used a playing card; the ace of spades, as it has some relevance to me. Its edge is fine, but not quite as much so as the ivory-handled, magnificent tool I used to use. I intend not to tell you this to encourage you to follow in my footsteps, au contraire, as a matter of fact; but you can never get a line that's as thin and dense as you can if you use something with a really sharp edge. It means the blow goes down easier, the burn's less and the _Rush_, the _Rush_ seems somehow longer and the taste seems stronger – that lemon-sugar taste that pure coke has – giving the illusion that what I was snorting was almost the high-class stuff; the junk the top businessmen do at their office parties – not one parts coke, ten parts ground up aspirin, or whatever. And when you're in this crummy business – when you know you're low and what you do is low, but you choose to ignore it and do what you do anyway – any single little touch or taste of class, you gotta scrounge for; in order to keep telling yourself that it's not so bad. That _you're_ not so bad – and neither are the people with whom you work – because any Psychologist will tell you that you can up anyone's esteem or 'id', as it's called in their medi-speak – by doing so; as its pretty much at least mostly established by what the individual tells themselves. When one lies enough to themselves, repeatedly and frantically; the mind really does start to believe it. It's why we all had to do it; to lie to ourselves about good things; to block out the insults given to us by our superiors, again and again; day in, day out.

After all, what good is a Shatei who doubts himself and what he can do for the Oyabun, or for the Family to whom he belongs?

Reverting back to my original point; I suppose the main basis why my nickname was _coined_ was because it had something to do with the reasons behind my first stint in Juvie. As you can probably imagine; when I got sent away to that godforsaken place for committing a godforsaken crime, my Family; especially, naturally my Father (though for different reasons, of course), were not best pleased with me. It was a burglary crime, coupled with assault that I had been thrown in for; which meant my training was going to take longer – which meant, more importantly, of course – that it was going to cost them more money. I had not spoken to him, but when I saw Kiriyama-dono's face in the courtroom, leering across from my own, I knew that I was to be punished when I got out – so, in an odd sense, I felt myself looking forward to the good six months that I'd been sentenced.

In all fairness, it wasn't my fault that I'd gotten caught, that time; but, as I was of course the quietest amongst the Shatei; who kept to himself in that first, awful year, I got the blame for it. I got the blame an awful lot for everything, before I came back to the world from the youth-prison. Cigarettes missing from Kotaro-san's pocket? Reita-kun took them. Someone spilt Kitano-Sensei's tea? Reita-kun was clumsy. Tomasu-kun (a.k.a, 'The Faggot That Screams At Night') has a broken nose? Reita-kun lost his temper. On and on it went; up mounted the bruises and everyone was happy.

Except, of course; for Reita-kun himself, who was feeling more than a little bit low by then. Had that bullshit gone on, I think that it would probably have gotten the best of me, in the end. In some ways, I'm even happy that I went to Juvie; because such an experience teaches you a lot about yourself that you didn't know before. After going to Juvie, my mouth opened – and I could fight back. I could socialise. I could climb the ladder over the masses as they looked up to me as their brother and their friend. I fraternised with those bastards, after I came out from that place and although I couldn't say it did me any good, it sure as hell, for the most part, kept me going.

But when the owner of the residence was sobbing at my feet, weeping as he nursed his bleeding hand and I was standing over him; a vision in black, with a shaved head and wide eyes, little good that fact was going to do me; because I didn't know it yet. He was a meek, frightened little creature; mid fifties, I would say. I didn't know his name when I became involved in the struggle with him, but it didn't make him any less real. I looked at my hands as the man, paling due to his blood loss, slumped over against the bathtub and the razor I had used to cut him stared back at me; a single slice of silver through the sticky red winking at me; as if it was laughing.

His name, as I found out when they processed and questioned me; was Isamu Motobuchi – and we had broken into his house at a quarter to ten that evening. We had chosen his particular property after some observation because he lived alone, wasn't physically very strong by his appearance and he had a lot of what looked like very interesting little trinkets littering his room. Ivory ornaments from Africa. Lacquer boxes, classic pens – all kinds of junk that could fetch a pretty penny on any black market in the city; of which, due to our connections, we knew plenty. But the main pride of place which Kotaro-san had his eye on had been a jewellery box on a shelf in his room; fat with all kinds of valuables.

The deal was, that for doing this job, we'd each get a cut of the money. Peanuts, of course, as we were only kids; but money was money and we figured that a bit was certainly better than none at all. Six of the members of my group, along with me, were chosen for it; because, as Kotaro-san said, it was easy money, it was a minimal job – and we were the kids who needed the practice above the others. We weren't rookies or bad, you understand – we'd each had at least half a dozen jobs or more and done them well; but we were the youngest – and the youngest tend to become the most arrogant unless such behaviour is caught and reprimanded early. This was no exception.

The break in went smoothly; through the bathroom window. Kotaro had mentioned this as a convenient entrance point and I have to admit, he had been right. We were far away enough from the owner's bedroom to sneak in quietly, but still on the top floor of the house; due to the harsh, climbing branches of the crab-apple tree which just touched the windowframe outside. The seven of us arrived inside with barely any sound; each one sensible enough to be careful to avoid knocking over anything into the washbasin as we landed feet-first on the expensive-looking, marble effect tiles with our soft-soled shoes.

The theft went well, too. The man slept like a child when we entered his room and took his things. When I did so I felt nothing. No guilt – but no fear of getting caught, either. All that did exist was the thrill of the game we were playing. Would we get away with it? If so, what would be our reward – and how better in the eyes of others would it make us? So easily impressionable we were; that I'm surprised any of us were able to think for ourselves at all. Thinking of it now and what happened next makes me feel very ill.

As I mentioned, all had gone well until we went back into the bathroom together; smiling like smug little bastards who had just won a race at the track – and we began to fill up our packs with whatever goodies we hadn't put in already. I personally had taken a lacquer box, a small wall scroll and an oak-embellished razor. We did it quietly and surprisingly respectfully; wrapping the ivory and the other more delicate items in toilet paper to keep them safe. Yes, it had been an in-out job and we knew, smirking at each other like the idiots we were, that Kotaro-san would be pleased with us.

Then, music started to circulate throughout the room – and the man groaned loudly.

At first, none of us were sure we were really hearing anything. I saw a couple of the Shatei looking around, but nobody really hearing, really _listening,_ or taking it in. It only really struck me that yes, a tune was being played (and quite loudly too) when I recognised it and started absent-mindedly humming along. I recognised it, I realised afterward, because my elder sister had the exact same tune in her jewellery box; namely the main theme from the film 'Love Story'.

We all looked around to one boy, Maru-kun, who was the one who had taken the jewellery box itself and, sure enough, he had opened it and was staring into its glistening contents catatonically. I rarely say this and truly mean it, but out of all of us in our group of 'vigilantes'; he was the only one who was really truly stupid and without common sense. He was the sort of child who all of us, in a sense; wished to be and not to be – as he was able to appreciate the world without being able to break it down into little components, but, at the same time, what use was such a gift where, at any moment, he might mistake rat poison for sherbet?

I ran over to the idiot and shut the lid with a tambourine sound of wood against metal; but it was too late. Cries were coming from the man's room and I could hear heavy footsteps coming our way; which, as soon as we all realised that we could be caught, instigated immediate and utter panic amongst us. I ran to the door without thinking and held it shut as the others clambered through the window and left me by myself. I dropped my pack; its contents spilling out onto the floor and I used the freedom to brace it back with my hands.

The resistance stopped and I heard that man's voice become shaky as he fumbled noisily with something. That thing was his phone and the recipient was the police. I realised rather quickly that I had to get out of there, fast – or else.

It still all didn't seem real to me though. It wasn't real when I took his things, or when I released the door and he struck his head, very hard on the sink. It didn't even make it real when I looked into his eyes; those frightened things with, due to the very large head injury he had sustained, one pupil a little bigger than the other. It must certainly have made him dumb enough to try to fight with me, the poor man. He tried to lash out at me, to keep me there or get revenge – whatever reasons people hit out at each other – and it was all I could do to hit back just as hard. I was quicker than him and his reactions were slow due to the blow to his head, so it was without trouble, but he kept at it – and I found myself becoming more and more, well, scared. I did not want to be around this 'scary' man; nor did I want to be caught by the police. I was not particularly claustrophobic, but I hated this feeling of being trapped.

What really made it real for me was when the man whose name I then didn't even know, came running at me – and I cut him.

Then, all of it became very real indeed. I could feel everything, then. As I looked down at the sobbing, terrified middle aged man; it made me sickened to see that I had made such a prestigious gentleman look so pathetic in his pain. I looked around; seeing red everywhere – that never-ending feeling of sickness creeping up – and releasing itself in a bout of sanity and realisation. I had taken what was essentially a knife to this man. A man who had done nothing personal to me, but to defend his home and his property. I had stolen his things, I had essentially made a mockery of him – and I had hurt him, probably, if the depth of the wound was as much as I thought, very badly.

I remember slumping over; the razor dropping from my hand – and sinking deep into the folds of my enveloping conscience that was devouring me from the inside out; the man's sounds swirling around in my head as I sank... and I sank...

I did not resist when the police took me away.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! Hope you don't feel I've been neglecting this too much :'] Reason I've been updating my other main story a bit more in the past couple of weeks was because I hadn't in literally months and I was feeling bad about it XD **

**Next chapter's gonna focus on Reita's time in Juvie, where he meets Saga for the first time :]**


	38. 37: Of Mice and Men

When you're young, the concept of imprisonment seems pretty abstract. You go from being this kid; someone who knows little of change, except that when it happens; the life you once knew isn't only altered – it is permanently behind you. You're an entity which is the absolute embodiment; a perfect metaphor, of freedom and irresponsibility. You have no cage; like some unfortunate creature in a zoo – and you live your life knowing that your misdeeds will be compensated for by adults sticking up for you. You often don't realise how lucky you are when you're living that life until it's over and gone – and you're left, as most people are, in a rundown apartment, working a crappy job and listening to soul music whilst downing hard spirits, alone.

I was still a child, not quite yet thirteen – and Juvie was that cage; that limitation of my freedom that I could never have imagined. Six months to me, when I used to eagerly count down the days between one birthday to the next, was an awfully long time even normally – and I had some notion that it was going to feel far longer a time than it actually was.

I was actually pretty lucky that I got six months. The length of my sentence wasn't really due to burglary; as usually, as I often found as I got older, that youths simply get weekly terms or reprimands on such a charge. The basis of my sentence was, quoted by the judge that sentenced me, that I: 'with intent to harm or maim the defendant without conscience or forethought, attacked him with a bladed weapon'. The only reason really as to why I wasn't sentenced to a longer term was due to a 'monetary embellishment' from my Father; along with a subtle, complimentary threat that if I was made to do 'too much' time, her brains, instead of my Father's signature, would be on the cheque. He told me this flatly during his first visit; which was understandably awkward, as well as adding equally as bluntly that he wasn't bailing me out. That if I was going to be 'fucking stupid', then I ought to learn a lesson; so that I'd grow up and not show him up again. Oh course, I pleaded against this, even breaking into sobs, but my Father ignored me and left with little more than a low grunt.

I knew he was angry about what I'd done. I'd embarrassed him in front of his superiors – exhibiting that I acted without forethought and was therefore unpredictable. Such actions, especially when one had the skills and access to weapons which I did – could be very dangerous indeed. My Father knew this, but more importantly so did Toshio Souma. I was pretty sure, as I examined him and how he wasn't looking in my eyes, that some extremely harsh words had been thrown around in that office about me; between my Father, the Oyabun and Kiriyama-dono. So I knew, to some extent, that I was being very selfish by crying; as I already knew that this was difficult enough for my Father to deal with as it was, but back then, I didn't care.

I _hated_ that place.

I appreciate the lessons it taught me, when I went there; as I mentioned to you earlier – but the experience, in itself, was beyond monstrous.

The first few weeks, up until my Father's first visit, were the hardest, though. They were the silent ones, where I had nobody I could turn to. Hanging in the exercise yard, eating my meals - I lived alone, avoiding everybody as a frightened little introvert. It made it even worse when I passed the larger boys; the more dangerous ones I'd seen being punished for their misbehaviour and heard them whispering as I passed them. I took one look at them, saw their smirks and knew – with acceptance rather than paranoia – that they were talking about me. About what, I couldn't hear; but I gained some idea of it when the 'bullying' started around two weeks after I arrived.

In a sense, I was an ideal prisoner – one which showed nothing but respect, was polite to the authorities who controlled him and obeyed every command. I was often put on laundry duty; a job that was tedious and irritating, but ate up the hours of time that I was being forced to spend here quite nicely. Unfortunately for me, though; some of the older kids worked alongside me. Even more so, they found it equally, if not more so, as boring as I did and, _unlike_ me –

(Hold the bastard down that's right squeal)

– they tended to act on their boredom. Combine that ability with a dose of hormones, upper body strength greater than my own (over time when you get better at self defence techniques, that 'upper body strength' doesn't really mean anything at all; but my progress with Kitano-Sensei had not yet fully expanded upon the consequences of that fact), sizeable numbers and a couple of blind spots in the room where the cameras couldn't reach, and –

(Sadamu your go open your mouth or we'll break it motherfucker)

– you get the idea.

As with everything, the first time's always the worst. Age meant nothing to them, at all; in fact, they preferred young detainees, because they're the most fun to hunt down and pick on, as well as being the 'tightest'. The first time, I screamed an awful lot and struggled – but I ended up just getting beaten up and it happened, anyway. Since I had nobody to turn to and I was terrified of the things that they might do to me if I told the guards about what was going on, I simply kept quiet and took it – and, after a few weeks, it didn't hurt as much anymore. Same old pain, same old sounds; same old smells of poison oak and old sweat.

I never screamed or cried again when they did it. After the initial struggle as I tried to keep my dignity came to a sharp; rather rude close, I would often try to leave my body instead; letting my mind wander to other places, away from this crude satire of so called 'justice'. I kept at it as long as I could when it happened – and sometimes, it almost worked. I was back at home with my Sister and Mother around the dinner table; complaining about the lateness of my Father. We often laughed in these visions and would eat her delicious cooking, as I closed my eyes and pretended the thing that had been forced in my mouth was something tolerable to masticate, than something that tasted sour with lust and evil.

They didn't like me doing it though. They liked me to stay conscious of what was happening, because they got more satisfaction out of the power it gave them. So if I started to drift, they'd often take their fists to my 'pretty face' and leave me stranded and alone afterwards on the dusty floor; anointed with sweat, come and my own blood. Sometimes it took me a while to drag myself up and I could go on, away from them. Other times I'd get taken to the infirmary and they'd ask me about who it was, trying to get some sense out of me; so that they could protect me from them. It was a kindly, human thing to want to do, but I never said anything. I couldn't have brought myself to say their names, even if I wanted to (for some reason, I'm not able to now, either). These people were not inside this place, where the dangers and the snakes lie in wait, everywhere. There were no consequences on their part for punishing the boys who were doing these things to me – for they were impervious, and could not be touched by them; whereas I was in that pit of snakes, that coliseum full of creatures called humans who take pleasure in pain.

Oh yes, I did not scream, my dear.

That doesn't mean to say however, that I didn't cry: because I did. Good God almighty, did I cry.

Crying was another thing I kept to myself. I accredited myself with being strong during the day as I spent my life alone in that place for that awful first while; so, in a sense, letting go was my reward for being strong. Letting free the pain and humiliation of the day; in an oddly similar way to how I used to cry when I fell over and cut my knees. My sleep was poor because of the discomfort my pillow gave me during the nights I wept; soaked through with tears which had a dual nature of being sticky and irritating my childish, sensitive skin. But that was alright; as I never really had any good dreams anyway. Only consistent nightmares, to which I'd wake up, after being torn apart by something unspeakable; by the kind of demon that is easily invented in the minds of the young with their bottomless, wonderful imaginations, in gasps and cold sweat to only find that reality was worse.

In the midst of all this, this bullshit; was when I met Saga Sakamoto. Do you remember him? He was the skinny brown haired guy with the babyish face and the soft voice, when we met the Nines earlier.

I'd seen him around the place, too. I often saw him with similar bruises to my own. You see, I may have given you the wrong impression about the boys who were hurting me – because it wasn't, in the strictest sense of the word, exactly personal. I figured that they just liked Saga for the same reasons they liked me; because he was young, kept to himself and they found him attractive. So I watched him as he scurried around doing his tasks inside, in the exercise yard, or on the field where they'd make us play games (the season was coming to an end however, as it was nearly autumn) and thought to myself sadly: _I know what you're going through, friend_.

We never talked through, until Saga found me after they'd gotten to me first. I was in pretty bad shape, that time. It had been a really hot day and I'd taken a shower, alone – which was pretty fucking dumb, really. Sometimes it ended quickly when there was footsteps and they'd spring apart from me and cover up the damage, but nobody was around – all either outside cooling off if they were on a break, like the guards all were; sipping cold glasses of lemonade when the young men panted in the heat and drank their tasteless water, or, eating lunch.

After they'd finished with me, they left me on the tiles with the water pouring over my face. To wash away the evidence, they said, because the runt's attracting more and more attention these days. I was quietly grateful for it and closed my eyes; the heat of the water slowly creeping away to a lukewarm trickle. I wished it would end, more than anything. I thought back to the man whom I had sliced open and began sobbing, helplessly.

Was I sorry for what I had done?

Oh yes. Every goddamn day – so, in a sense, the judicial system had indeed succeeded in the case of Reita Suzuki. But it made no difference – no fucking difference at all – because I was here, I could not get out because my Father was not going to bail me out – and I would be staying until I was deemed safe to enter society again. Was this how that man felt, when I cut him open? That he was helpless and alone, with nobody to help him? I tried to think those thoughts and I felt a little better in my guilt – that I was genuinely sorry for what I had done to _my_ victim, rather than me being the victim of something else as a consequence of my actions, and thus sorry only for myself.

Halfway through another sob, laying there on my side on the floor; teeth grinding against the tiles as I hiccupped and whined, the footsteps that I had not heard over the pattering of the water were suddenly close beside me – and my breath stopped in my throat.

(Oh God help me they're back)

I tried to get into as small a ball as I could, but before I could curl into myself, a pair of arms linked under my shoulders and I was dragged out of the shower. I knew what was coming, so I simply opened my mouth with a sigh; too broken to bother trying to fight, this time. But instead of what I anticipated, water was pouring into my mouth which shocked me so much, that I spluttered and coughed up much of what I had swallowed. I looked up, shivering from the new change in temperature and from shock; and looking down at me was the semi-familiar face, a bruise on its right cheek, which I'd casually observed and pitied.

"Are you alright kid?"

I didn't know what to do, as I looked up at Saga; his features kind and concerned, so I broke my internal, personal unwritten rule about being strong, and completely let go. I sobbed and he held me to him and I clung to his clothes, his uniform; wet from the shower which he'd dragged me from enveloping me in a shroud that today I can only describe as motherly.

"Shhh..." he soothed, his voice with a tinge of discomfort; typical of most men when a male cries around them; but I could sense the underlying tones of understanding and knew that he was trying. He seemed to comprehend that I was finding it very difficult to speak, so he did most of it for me.

"I saw them leaving the mess after you left," he said to me, handing me the plastic cup which contained the water he'd brought. "If I'd gotten here sooner..."

He trailed off, guiltily and there was quiet for a little while as he held me. I didn't know the name attached to the face, but it did not matter. I had a quiet adoration for him and the kindness he had shown towards me that was far, far too great for me to understand. Sometimes, that childish idolisation I think's something to do with how close we got in the coming months. Thinking of our current relationship now, as it is; makes me pretty sad. Because, if it hadn't been for him, I really truly would have gone on believing that Juvie, as it was when I attended, was an accurate representation of the nature of men.

Sometimes, after all, the people we least expect are the ones which really affect us in our being, and give us hope.

* * *

**A/N: Had to edit chapter 34 a bit, so I'd go back and read it :'] (my bad)**


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